


My Love's A Noble Madness

by silverneko9lives0



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Asylum, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Conspiracy, Definitely Non-Con Situations, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Gold Sickness, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, NO rape in the story but mentions of it, Past Rape/Non-con, Schizophrenia, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 51
Words: 88,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1709600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Bilbo Baggins wanted was to have have a decent job while he worked on getting his graduate degree in psychology. Moria Asylum seemed like the best place for that-until he met Thorin Oakenshield, an erratic and violent schizophrenic, who only seems to obey Bilbo for whatever reason and claims to be in love with him. Bilbo isn't finding Thorin's attraction toward him romantic whatsoever. However, uncovering a conspiracy to keep Thorin locked away to bury a disturbing truth about the head psychologist forces Bilbo to take action against Moria Asylum.</p><p>Based on this prompt from tumblr: “Thorin Oakenshield was an esteemed businessman who thought he avoided the strain of madness that ran through his family until delusion and paranoia forced him into psychiatric care. He becomes singularly obsessed with an orderly named Bilbo Baggins, claiming the man is his Arkenstone. Thorin will go to any length to possess Bilbo, because if he cannot then no one can.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Gold Madness AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/52457) by Smokinshield. 



“We keep the more violent patients in D Wing,” Dr. Gundebad said, jerking his thumb toward the padlocked door. “So make sure you have at least one other orderly with you when you go inside to hand out medications.”

“All right,” Bilbo said, adjusting his briefcase’s strap to keep it from digging into his shoulder.

“We won’t go in there right now,” he said, giving Bilbo a grin, “Too many possible weapons on you.”

Bilbo wasn’t sure if he should laugh or not, but accepted it with a smile. “I suppose that makes sense,” he said. “Is there anyone I should stay away from specifically?”

“Not particularly,” Dr. Gundebad assured him as they walked down to the staff room. “Most of our patients aren’t too bad. It’s a small ward after all. The D Wing only has two people in it that you should be a little more cautious around since we usually send the more dangerous inmates to a facility that is better equipped to handle them. Sméagol Rivers has dissociative identity disorder and has an obsession with a friend’s ring. He won’t let anyone take it from him. Not that I’d encourage it.”

“Why?”

Dr. Gundebad punched in the code for the staff room, letting Bilbo enter before him. “Sméagol attacked his cousin five years ago when he tried to take it so that they could eat dinner. And a few other inmates who had tried to take it were attacked as well.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said, chills crawling up his spine. Dr Gundebad chuckled.

“Don’t worry, he’s mostly harmless.” Bilbo guessed that was true if he was allowed to stay at Moria Asylum. Dr. Gundebad opened a locker. “Here you are.”

“Thanks,” Bilbo said, taking note of the locker number and lock combination. He put his handheld notepad and pen back in his briefcase. “What about the other?”

“Other?”

“The other patient in D Wing I should be a little more wary of?”

Dr. Gundebad sighed. “Do you remember the owner of Erebor Technologies? Thorin Oakenshield?”

“The bloke who attacked his assistant because he swore he heard him say that he stole the company?”

“Yes, that’s the one. He’s a bit deceptive and he might try to trick you into thinking he’s sane.”

“What does he have?” Bilbo asked. Dr Gundebad arched a brow at him. “Sorry,” Bilbo said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

Dr. Gundebad scratched his chin. “It’s a hereditary illness that is prevalent in Thorin’s family. We aren’t sure exactly what it is, but it’s a strain of schizoaffective disorder, a little bit of obsessive-compulsive disorder…” he sighed. “He’s perhaps our most difficult patient next to Sméagol. But even Sméagol isn’t as bad.”

“Wouldn’t he be moved?”

“His family would rather avoid changing facilities. And other than when we go to give him his medicine, he’s perfectly calm so I see no reason to have him moved.” Bilbo could understand that. No one wanted to be separated from their family.

He’s encouraged to buy white scrubs from a uniform store (white, no color and no jewelry of any sort) before he started work officially the next day. He was given the padlock numbers for the doors on a list and encouraged to memorize them. Dr. Gundebad led him back to the entrance and bade him goodbye and that he’d see him on Thursday. Bilbo pulled out his cell phone and dialed his grandparents.

“ _Hello_?”

“Grandpa, its Bilbo. I got the job.”

#

Bilbo’s flat was sparsely decorated with next to nothing.

He had a bed in the bedroom with a decent mattress and warm sheets and a down comforter and two fluffy throws. He also had an old table, fold away table and three folding chairs in the kitchen. Bilbo hoped to raise enough money to get something a little bit more for his new home while he studied at Ludwig-Maximilions.

His grandmother had tried to convince him to attend grad school closer to home so he wouldn’t have to move, but he needed to get out of England for a while. Whether he really needed the years away that he planned, he didn’t know.

He had decided to stay in Germany through the following three or four years for his PhD in psychology in all four seasons, save the two or four weeks in England to visit his family for Christmas.

He considered himself blessed. His grandfather was paying for almost everything he needed. Tuition, rent, food…everything else he had to pay for himself and he didn’t want to rely on a scant monthly allowance that may or may not stretch through the months for it.

With that in mind, he was glad to get a decent paying job at Moria Asylum. Dr. Gundebad didn’t seem to mind that he couldn’t work full time, mentioning briefly that his own son was an undergrad freshman at the University of Ingolstadt.

Bilbo opened the window, letting what was left of summer flow into the room. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow on the _Isar_. He had a couple days before he started work and almost a week more before his classes began and that made him eager to scout the university and his neighborhood. Where the food was, the best coffee shops, the library, a bank…

He sighed.

There was so much to do before he could start working. He needed a subway card to get from home or work to the university…needed to stock his fridge—there was only so long he would be able to survive on frozen dinners.

Bilbo stepped away and stretched. Overwhelmed by the errands he’d need to do, they weren’t that bad and so far, Munich was a refreshing difference from London’s grey drab.

The next few years, Bilbo decided, would be interesting.

#

Blotaz punched in the code for D Wing. “Ready?”

“No,” Bilbo said, pushing a trolley in. “But I’ll live.” Blotaz grinned.

Bilbo had been told to ask Blotaz if he needed anything and so far he didn’t need to stick close to him that much. Still, he was advised never to enter D Wing alone. The patients in that wing were often likened to wild cats: they’d attack you the moment your back is turned.

While that made his heart hammer a little faster in his chest than he’d like, Bilbo kept a perfectly neutral expression on his face as he and Blotaz delivered the medications. He hesitated at a door with the name _Sméagol_ written on a plaque.

Blotaz chuckled. “Don’t worry about Smeeg,” he said. “He won’t attack so long as he knows you aren’t going to take his Ring.” He opened the door and Bilbo followed him inside. The man squatted on the bed, stroking a gold band in his hand, mumbling to himself. His black hair was thin and slowly falling out.

“Sméagol?” Blotaz said. Sméagol didn’t look at them. “Gollum?” His head snapped at them and he snarled, baring his teeth and gurgling. Blotaz didn’t seem impressed by the hostility. “It’s time for your meds, Gollum.”

“And candy?” Sméagol (well, Gollum) asked.

Bilbo furrowed his brow.

“After your meds,” Blotaz said, handing him a paper cup. Blotaz grinned at him. “Cherry flavored cough syrup for his throat,” he said. “He likes how it tastes, which is more than what I can say.”

Bilbo agreed. He’d stick with tea with a drop of honey, thank you. Gollum swallowed his meds and released a raspy giggle when Bilbo gave him the syrup.

 _Surprisingly easy_ , Bilbo thought, pushing the trolley back out into the hallway. Three rooms later, Blotaz walked past. “What about this one?” Bilbo asked. Blotaz turned around and stared.

“Not yet. We prefer to give Thorin medicine last. We need about two more people to hold him down so his medicine can be given.”

“Seriously?!” Bilbo squeaked. Blotaz hummed, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding. Bilbo swallowed, following after him. “So he’s difficult?”

“Compared to most of the inmates, Thorin is _much_ more difficult. You’d think we’re torturing him with how much he screams when we give him his shot.”

A Bilbo tried to push down the fear he felt at meeting Thorin as he and Blotaz gave the others their medication. Some of them responded well to the medicine they had and were glad to meet Bilbo, if a bit morose about staying at Moria.

Circling back around to Thorin’s room, two other orderlies waited for them. One was tall, dark, and broad shouldered. He introduced himself as Lurtz. His companion, an older orderly, gave the name Grishnak. Lurtz opened the door and they filed in.

As soon as they were all in the room, Lurtz closed the door and Bilbo looked at the man sitting on the bed. He was handsome, tall. His black hair covered his neck and ears. He stared at them with defiance in his sky blue eyes. They fix on Bilbo, watching him.

They didn’t blink when Lurtz and Blotaz pinned Thorin’s ankles down, strapping him down. Bilbo handed the needle to Grishnak. He approached and bound Thorin’s hands down, expecting him to attack at any moment. To bite, scream, scratch…

But he did nothing. Bilbo pinned Thorin’s shoulders down, wishing that he’d blink or look away, anything _but_ stare at him.

“Done,” Grishnak said. They release him and back out of the room, locking it again. Thorin jumped at the door, rattling the handle. He banged his palms on the door, making Bilbo jump.

“That’s more like him,” Grishnak muttered.

“I thought he was violent,” Bilbo said.

“He _is_ violent,” Blotaz said. “I’ve never seen him that calm before. He’s usually fighting us. Not sure I like this change.”

“I like it,” Grishnak said. “Maybe his meds are finally working.”

“He doesn’t respond to his medicine?” Bilbo asked.

“Thorin’s case is strange,” Lurtz said. “No one knows what he should be given. He was on invega and lithobid, but he wouldn’t swallow.”

“Nearly bit my hand off the last time we made him take them,” Grishnak snarled. “So Azog got approval for him to take a shot to stabilize him and keep him calm. Bloody good that does.”

They exited the wing. “Personally, it worries me,” Blotaz whispered to Bilbo and Lurtz. Lurtz hummed, arms crossed. “What if Thorin’s up to something. The meds haven’t been working, why would they now?”

“Maybe Azog finally decided to give him an anti-anxiety medicine.” Lurtz suggested. Blotaz shook his head and Grishnak bade them goodbye for the day.

“He acted like his normal self when we left.”

“Maybe it’s the newbie.”

Bilbo blushed. “Doubtful,” he said. “Maybe it has to do with me being new?”

“Eh, we’ll worry about it later,” Lurtz said. “When does your shift end?”

“At eight,” Bilbo said, “When the night orderlies clock on.”

“Want to grab a bite. Blotaz and I usually go drinking after work.”

Bilbo beamed. “Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.webmd.com/schizophrenia/guide/mental-health-psychotic-disorders 
> 
> http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/schizoaffective-disorder/basics/treatment/con-20029221


	2. Chapter 2

Bilbo followed Blotaz to a booth in the back while Lurtz fetched the beer.

Laughter bounced off the walls, making it almost difficult to hear. The tan walls seemed almost golden in the lights and a neon blue sign flashed _Beorn’s_ behind the counter, the glow of the light casting reflective shades over the glass bottles lined in the back.

The floor was dark mahogany wood and burgundy carpets. The seats were covered in brown leather hides to match mahogany tables.

Lurtz approached, carrying three glass mugs of beer filled to the brim and set them on the table. Bilbo thought it impressive that he didn’t spill. He knew he certainly would have.

“So, Bilbo, you’re not from around here,” Lurtz stated. Bilbo blinked. “You’ve got a bit of an accent.”

“Oh, I actually hail from England,” Bilbo said. “I minored in German as a second language at Oxford during my undergrad studies. Majored in Psychology and I’m attending LMU as a grad student.”

Blotaz hummed. “And you chose to work at Moria…”

“Because they were looking and the pay’s decent.” He sank in his seat, buying some time before he had to admit he was a “rich kid.” He never felt like one.

“Sure it’s decent if you work full time, but balancing that _and_ school isn’t going to pay everything off. Are you on scholarship?” Lurtz asked. Bilbo shook his head.

“My…well, my grandparents are very wealthy, so my grandfather’s paying tuition and my rent and for groceries. And an allowance for extra stuff, but it’s…not really enough, so I got a job for, well, extra stuff. Such as furniture. My apartments depressingly bare.”

“What about at home? Live with them?”

“No. I inherited my parents’ house and my grandfather’s taking care of it so that some less than savory relatives of mine don’t get their hands on it.”

“Geez, why’d you leave?” Blotaz asked. “Just for school?”

“Well, school’s the reason I left, but it was a bit more than that. I needed to get out of the country a bit,” he admitted, drinking some more.

“You didn’t have to work at an asylum, though,” Lurtz mumbled.

“I wanted to work somewhere related to what I’m studying for. Working at an asylum or hospital seemed like the best idea. It’s not like I can intern as a psychologist with anyone.”

Blotaz scratched his chin and Lurtz waved at a waitress, requesting more beer.

“Makes sense,” Blotaz said, leaning back in his seat. “Well, whatever your reason for joining our loony bin, welcome to the club.”

Bilbo grinned. “Thanks.”

A pale blond slid into the seat beside him, startling Bilbo.

“Bolg!” Lurtz snapped. “A little warning next time.”

“Fuck you, Lurtz,” Bolg snapped. He beamed at Bilbo and shook his hand. Bilbo felt that his hand was being crushed. “Nice to meet you, I’m Bolg Gundebad.”

“Bilbo Baggins.”

“The new orderly?” Bolg asked.

Bilbo nodded, scooching toward the wall with his drink.

Bolg’s hair was in a crew cut and one eye was a bright blue while the other was closer to ice blue. Bilbo wondered about the coloring of it but decided not to ask. More drinks were brought and passed around.

Bilbo learned a few things about his new coworkers.

Namely that Lurtz has a girlfriend and a son at home. (Blotaz warned Bilbo that unless he planned to skip his classes tomorrow, it’d be wise of him to not ask about Mitzi and Horst, he’d not say another word.)

Blotaz lived alone with a tiny Shih Tzu named Bengel which actually belonged to his sister, but her flat didn’t allow pets but his did so he was stuck with the little bastard till she moved someplace more pet friendly (she’d been trying for a year).

Bolg was studying architecture at Ingolstadt and informed Bilbo that he was blind in his right eye (Bilbo admitted he had guessed that he was partially blind but didn’t think there was a possible way for him to ask without sounding rude).

As for himself, Bilbo made the mistake of coming out to them on his fourth drink. He blushed and tried to disappear under the table.

“That was lacking tact,” he said. “I think I had too much.”

Lurtz and Bolg laughed.

“We don’t care,” Blotaz assured him. “Love is love. Besides, we aren’t going to base our opinion of you on whom you prefer to fuck. We will, however, be rather cross if you slack off at the asylum.”

“Oh…well, that’s comforting,” Bilbo said. “I was a bit nervous about coming out. Far too many bad experiences with it.”

“Really?” Bolg said, throwing an arm around Bilbo’s shoulder. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Sadly I’ve lost a few friends because of it over the years.”

“Well, they aren't worth the time, then, sweetie,” Bolg teased.

Bilbo jabbed his elbow into Bolg’s ribs. “Behave yourself,” he chided.

“Yeah, I’d date you.”

“Are you at least bi?”

“No. Straight.”

“I don’t date straights,” Bilbo said. “Too much hassle.”

Bolg pouted. “I think that’s a bit…it’s something mean…”

“And you’re drunk,” Lurtz said, shaking his head.

Bolg scoffed. “After three beers? _Please_. Give me some credit.”

#

The days pass in relative peace.

Some were more stressful than others but Bilbo managed to adopt a regular routine.

His classes were always in the morning, he would break for lunch, have a couple hours to do homework before heading to work around three to make his shift at four. He would work until eight then go home.

Fridays and Saturdays he’d go to a pub with Blotaz and Lurtz. Sometimes with Bolg. Usually, they’d go to _Beorn’s_ , but not always.

His third Saturday in Munich ended with Bolg dragging him to a gay bar, laughing at how red Bilbo got when he hired a dancer to give him a lap dance. He kissed and propositioned him as a form of revenge. Bolg couldn’t look him in the eye after.

Sundays, he’d take an hour to talk to his grandparents. He didn’t need to know nor did he care about the gossip his grandmother sprung on him. Still, he listened politely, sometimes interjecting _how_ _interesting that is, grandma. Please do continue._ Or some other phrase equally halfhearted, biting back his sarcasm.

“What happened Saturday?” Blotaz asked when they entered D Wing Monday afternoon. “Dr. Gundebad been muttering under his breath all day.”

“Well, I don’t know about Dr. Gundebad, but Bolg decided to be a jerk when we went out that night, so I was a jerk back,” Bilbo said, grinning. “It’s nothing that little shit didn’t deserve.”

“Dare I ask?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

Blotaz hummed. “I can live without knowing, though it’ll make me scratch my head.”

“I doubt whatever’s eating at the doctor has to do with what goes on between his son and me. Besides, I didn’t do anything Bolg didn’t deserve.”

“Now I’m curious. Spill!”

Bilbo laughed, telling him about the gay bar, the dancer, and Bilbo’s revenge. Blotaz cracked up.

“Oh! Yes, he certainly deserved _that_! Well done, Mr. Baggins.”

They took the time handing out meds to calm down, meeting Grishnak and Lurtz outside Thorin’s room.

Each time Bilbo was there, Thorin was calm. He never misbehaved, never took his eyes off Bilbo, always staring, never blinking. No one questioned the changes and no one minded them.

Bilbo rarely saw Thorin acting violent and the one time he did, as soon as he spied Bilbo, he became silent and still— _compliant_. Bilbo guessed it was as though Thorin entered a kind of dream state, but only around him.

There was debate whether Thorin might need less orderlies to hold him down when giving him his medicine. Even talk going as far to say that Bilbo might be able to give him his medicine alone, though Dr. Gundebad was against anyone being alone with D Wing patients.

It was never tried. Nor would it be with Dr. Gundebad’s consent.

Grishnak pulled the needle out of Thorin’s arm and Bilbo unbound Thorin’s wrists. Once one was released and he unbuckled the other, Thorin touched his cheek.

Bilbo almost jerked back, but met Thorin’s eyes instead. They were wide, glossy, his mouth slightly parted as he stroked Bilbo’s cheek as though amazed.

He wanted to pull away from Thorin. His touch was slightly unnerving. Bilbo didn’t dare, hoping Thorin wouldn’t do anything untoward. He felt he had entered a staring contest with a tiger or a wolf and that any movement he made would give the animal inside a chance to attack.

Thorin kept stroking his cheek, thumb brushing along Bilbo’s cheek bone under his eye.

“You’re real,” Thorin whispered. “You’re really here.”

 Bilbo grabbed Thorin’s wrist gently, pulling the hand away from his cheek. “Yes, I’m real,” he answered, letting go of Thorin’s wrist and following Blotaz out.

“Wait! Don’t go!”

Blotaz locked the door and they left. Bilbo’s legs shook.

“You okay?”

“Y-yes,” Bilbo said. “I thought he might try to kill me.”

“Hmm, I don’t think Thorin’s going to do that to you. Where I stand, I think he fancies you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?!” Bilbo snapped.

“Sorry,” Blotaz said, holding the door open for him. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m calling it as I see it. Besides, I doubt you’re going to start a relationship with Thorin. You’re completely shaken. C’mon,” Blotaz patted Bilbo’s shoulder. “I’ll buy you a drink after our shift.”

“I’ve school.”

“I said _a_ drink, didn’t I?”


	3. Chapter 3

Meeting Dr. Gundebad outside Thorin’s room with Lurtz and Grishnack surprised Bilbo. He wanted to ask why, because save for the few group sessions Dr. Gundebad led Bilbo had not seen him out of his office. He decided to ignore the biting curiosity.

“Good evening, Doctor,” Blotaz said.

“Everything going well?” he asked.

“As well as can be. Are you visiting Thorin this evening?”

“Yes,” he said. “I want to confirm something.” He shifted his gaze to Bilbo. Bilbo swallowed and Blotaz opened the door.

Thorin stared at them wearily, a frown marring his face until they settled on Bilbo. Lurtz and Blotaz tied his ankles down while Bilbo tied his wrists down, needing to wrench Thorin’s hand off him when he threaded his fingers through Bilbo’s hair. He held Thorin’s shoulders down, staring at Thorin’s nose or forehead or hair. Anything but at his eyes…

“Done,” Grishnak said. Bilbo unbuckled the cuffs and backed away, pushing the trolley out of the room.

“Mr. Baggins,” Dr. Gundebad called. “May I have a word?”

“Yes, sir.”

Grishnak took the trolley from him, patting his shoulder and whispering “good luck.” Bilbo doubted he did anything that merited a “good luck,” but he thanked him anyway before following Dr. Gundebad to his office.

“So,” Dr. Gundebad sat on his desk, arms crossed over his chest. “How are you doing it?”

“Doing what?”

“Calming Thorin down? Are you saying anything to him? Maybe humming a song?”

Bilbo shook his head. “He’s been like that with me since I met him when I started working. He only spoke a couple sentences to me.”

“What did he say?”

Bilbo bit his tongue lightly. “He said, ‘you’re real.’ And then he said, ‘you’re really here.’”

“Why do you think he’d say that?”

“I don’t know. Blotaz jokes about how maybe Thorin has a crush on me.”

“It’s possible that he does.”

“Well, I’m not doing anything to encourage it.”

“Good to know,” Dr. Gundebad said. “The calmest I’ve ever seen Thorin is when he’s glaring at everyone who crosses his path or when he’s in that chair.” He glances at the left chair. “Even then, he never, _ever_ , looked at anyone the way he does at you. It’s dreamlike, admiring. The crush theory is a good one.”

“Do you not want me being there when he gets his medicine?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he said. “But it may be possible to stop tying him down first.”

Bilbo’s heart jumped. “With all due respect, Sir, I think it’d be safer if he was still tied down.”

“Why?”

“When he spoke to me, he touched my cheek.”

Dr. Gundebad’s eyebrows arched. “He did?”

“To be honest, I don’t like the way he looks at me,” Bilbo said. He shrugged. “I can’t put my finger on it, but as calm as it is, there’s something off about it.”

“Well, we may as well give it a shot. If you feel more comfortable binding his hands first, go ahead, but I think you may be able to stabilize him. Regardless why he behaves around you, he does. I’ve been working with him for nearly three years and he’s never acted like this. Not around anyone else. But this is just a trial period. If it goes well, you and one other orderly, any other orderly, will be able to take give him his medicine on your own.”

“So long as I’m there.”

Dr. Gundebad nodded. “That’s the only catch. Of course, I would need you to consent. You’re certainly welcome to say no, but the orderlies you work with like the change. Several have been injured by Thorin while tying him down or giving him his medicine. There have been incidents were needles have been broken. Thorin has not been an easy patient.”

Bilbo stared at his feet. He felt like he was being begged to accept. Or worse: ordered. _We need your consent, but I’ll do what’s necessary to make you consent_ , was left unsaid. Bilbo sighed.

“Okay, I’ll give it a shot, but if things get worse instead of better…”

Dr. Gundebad grinned. “If it gets worse, we’ll find another way. But I don’t think it will.”

Bilbo wasn’t as surely convinced. But if it helped Thorin get better, then maybe the way he looked at Bilbo would become less intimidating. If it didn’t help, he’d let Dr. Gundebad know.

Dr. Gundebad shook his hand and let him get back to work. Bilbo went through the rest of his shift feeling anxious and when his shift ended, he bade Blotaz goodbye and went home, deciding to either read or study. So long as it got his mind off of Thorin and giving Thorin his medicine or even being in the same room as Thorin, he didn’t care.

#

Bilbo checked under the chairs in the staff room, tongue in cheek, and his annoyance rising. He crawled over to another chair and shifted to lie on his stomach, shoving his hand under the sofa.

“Lose something?”

Bilbo glanced up at Lurtz, a blush coloring his cheeks. “My staff badge is missing.”

“Did you check your locker?”

“I did,” Bilbo stood, dusting his front. “Would I be here, fishing under recliners if it was there? It’s not in my briefcase either.”

“Could’ve been stolen,” Lurtz suggested, a smile tugging the corner of his lips. Bilbo glared at him.

“For that to work he’d need to get out of D Wing into the staff room and to my locker and back,” he said. “And Thorin’s door is _locked_. Besides, that’s not funny.”

“No it’s not, but he’s picked the lock before. Several times. In hopes of escaping. The bastard may be crazy, but he’s smart.”

“Has he succeeded?”

“A couple times, but we upgraded the security system significantly since his last escape and he’s yet to find a way past that yet. To him, making the Doctor’s hair fall out is a game.”

“Fair enough. Still, even if he did get out of D Wing, he’d still need to know the code for the staff room _and_ my locker number.”

Lurtz shrugged. “As unlikely as it is, I’d not underestimate him. Besides it wouldn’t hurt to check the cameras. Go get into your scrubs. I’ll take you to the security room.”

Bilbo sighed and went to do as Lurtz suggested. He followed him to the security room and the guards rewound the tapes. Bilbo peered at the screen, watching the minutes fly backwards…and the occasional night nurse or orderly.

Lurtz paused the camera and pressed play. Thorin walked by, holding something in his hands.

He turned to Bilbo. “Shall we?”

Bilbo nodded and followed him into D Wing and Thorin’s room in time to see Thorin’s hand reappear from under his pillow. Bilbo kept his back to Thorin, deciding to let Lurtz handle the interrogation unless he was needed.

“You’re early,” Thorin snarled at Lurtz. “Why?”

“Bilbo’s badge is missing,” Lurtz said. “Did you go into the staff room last night?”

“No,” Thorin said. “I didn’t even leave the room.”

“We checked security, Thorin. We know you were at least in the day room and you were holding something in your hands. What was it?”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Like I said, Bilbo’s badge is missing.” Lurtz crossed his arms. “So if you took it…”

“Why would I take something he needs?” Thorin asked.

“What’s under your pillow?”

“ _Nothing_.”

“Then you won’t mind if I check,” Bilbo said. Thorin froze, teeth clacking together as he shut his mouth. He lowered his gaze to his hands resting in his lap. Bilbo approached and picked up the pillow. Lying on the mattress was his badge, face side up. Bilbo picked it up and clipped it to the collar of his scrubs and turned to leave. Thorin grabbed his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Please don’t be mad.” Bilbo glanced at the hand gripping his wrist. It wasn’t a strong hold, but firm enough. “Bilbo, please don’t be angry.”

“I’m not angry,” Bilbo said. Thorin looked up, biting his lip. “I’m frustrated and annoyed, but I’m not angry. Just…just don’t take it again. Okay? I need it for work.” Thorin nodded, kissing his hand before letting go. Once Lurtz locked Thorin’s door, Bilbo wiped the back of his trousers.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “I wish he didn’t,” he bit tongue between his teeth trying to figure out the right word. “I wish he didn’t _fixate_ on me. You know?”

“Hey, if he behaves, he can ‘fixate’ on whoever he wants.”

“He stole my badge, Lurtz.”

“He apologized.”

“And if it escalates any more than petty theft?” Bilbo asked. Lurtz stared at him. “He’s in D Wing for a reason.”

“Which is violence,” Lurtz said. “Not stalking. He likes you and he behaves. Trust me: most of us care only about that. I don’t think he’ll hurt you.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I just get this…bad feeling around him. It’s like he’s waiting to really act. Like all of this is just the beginning of something that’s only going to get worse…”

Lurtz took his shoulders. “Bilbo, _nothing_ is going to happen. And you sure as hell can’t let any of the patients—let alone Thorin—know that you’re spooked. He’s got a crush on you and he overstepped his bounds and he apologized for it. Bilbo, you’re _good_ for Thorin. I’m sorry he scares you, but honestly, _I_ used to be scared of him myself, and he’s _never_ acted like the way he does around you. So until it does start getting worse instead of better, I doubt you have anything to be scared of.”

Bilbo bit his lip. “All right.”

“Good. Let’s get to work.”


	4. Chapter 4

“He _stole_ your badge?” Bolg asked, almost spitting his beer out.

Bilbo nodded.

Bolg wrinkled his nose. “That’s creepy.”

“He gave it back,” Blotaz said. “So, really, I’m sticking with the whole school-boy puppy-crush theory. Besides, Bilbo, he is cute.”

Bilbo tossed a chip at him. “Shut it.”

“Why? Bilbo, if he starts getting better, he might become sane enough to live on his own so long as he remembers to take his meds.”

“Given he _hates_ taking them—which I’ve yet to see—I don’t see that happening any time soon.”

“Maybe so, he still likes you and he’s eager to behave. The wolf has been tamed. Now he’s a fluffy puppy dog that yaps at your heels and whose tail wags a mile a minute. If he wasn’t at Moria, would you not date him? I wouldn’t, but that’s only because I fancy ladies.”

Bilbo stared at Blotaz, imagining Thorin with floppy ears and a fluffy tail.

The idea was a mix of disturbing and adorable.

“Fine,” Bilbo said. “You want to know what I think? If he wasn’t a patient and if he wasn’t so creepy, I guess, yeah, he’d be quite good looking and I might consider going out with him—but wait, I’m swamped with work and school and _coming here_ is the only social life I have.”

“You’ve been here more than a month.”

“And I’ve school, work, _homework_ , and my only hope at passing my classes is to sacrifice the time I have to do said homework because when I’m not at school I’m at work or home, and when I’m not at work I’m either at school or home. I have to sacrifice something. I chose to sacrifice having a life.”

He saluted Blotaz with his mug and drank the remnants of his beer in three gulps.

He stood and bade them goodnight, waving at the bartender in the back. Bilbo stuffed his hands in his pockets and bowed his head. Thorin’s crush on him may be fun to talk about, but Bilbo didn’t think that his co-workers really grasped how scared he was of the way Thorin looked at him.

Lurtz and Blotaz both tell him to shrug it off, maybe joke about it because sometimes it’s better to laugh it off than let the fear consume you…

True, it was better to joke and laugh than let it consume you and yet Bilbo didn’t find trivializing the situation all that…helpful. It didn’t make him more anxious, but it didn’t relieve his worries either.

He sometimes felt that the way Thorin looked at him was hungry.

Earlier that day, when he was getting his medicine, Thorin licked his lips when Bilbo accidently made eye contact with him. It was small, hardly hostile, but also enough to make Bilbo feel especially wary around Thorin.

And he and Lurtz were going to start giving Thorin his shot alone tomorrow. Bilbo wasn’t sure he was ready for that. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

It wasn’t as he couldn’t do it. He was strong enough, even if he didn’t look it. He could handle giving Thorin his medicine on his own, but there was just this… _feeling_ that it was not such a good idea, as though Thorin was watching, waiting for a chance to strike—

Bilbo shook his head. _Get a hold of yourself, Baggins. What’s the worst thing that could happen?_

#

Sméagol was not having a good day.

He misplaced his ring and had to be tied down to the bed and given a shot to calm him down while Bilbo and Lurtz searched for it. Bilbo found it under the desk and set it in Sméagol’s hand.

It seemed the day was one where most of the patients were in a bad mood and Bilbo, while he didn’t believe in abstracts like coincidence or fate, hoped that Thorin would break the norm. Especially given that he pulled a muscle in his shoulder and then had another patient shove him against the wall banging said shoulder. He thanked God (or whoever) for Lurtz.

“What is with them today?” he asked as they headed back to Thorin’s room.

“Some days are worse than others,” Lurtz said.

“For five different patients?”

“It happens. Just hope there’s no riot.”

Bilbo glared at him. “That’s not funny.”

“What are you talking about? It’s hilarious. You need to lighten up a little bit,” Lurtz said, opening the door. “Don’t be so fussy.”

“I’m not fussy,” Bilbo snapped.

Lurtz snorted.

“Really, I’m not, fuzzy— _fussy_ ,” Bilbo winced. “I meant fussy.”

Lurtz shook his head.

“It’s been a long day and I’m injured so…”

“You’re hurt?” Bilbo turned to Thorin and Lurtz’s smile died.

Thorin stood, grabbing Bilbo’s shoulders, fingers digging into Bilbo’s tender shoulder. Bilbo pried him off. “No, Thorin, I’m all right, it’s just a bruise. It’s okay.”

“You’re sure?” Thorin asked, glaring at Lurtz.

“Of course he’d think it was my fault,” Lurtz muttered.

Bilbo grabbed Thorin’s chin, forcing him to look at Bilbo.

“Thorin, I’m fine. It’s nothing to worry about. If it was, I’d not be here right now. Okay?”

Thorin nodded, curling his fingers around Bilbo’s wrist.

Bilbo tried not to pull away when he kissed his fingers. “Thorin, it’s time for your medicine.”

Thorin looked at him, then at Lurtz, and back. “Just you two?”

“Yes,” Lurtz said. “You’ve been good, so Dr. Gundebad thinks you should be okay with just the two of us. Lie down.” Thorin glared at him. Bilbo pushed him toward the bed. “Thorin…”

“Thorin, look at me,” Bilbo said. Thorin turned to him again. “Baby steps. If you behave more, maybe we won’t have to tie you down anymore, all right? So stop being stubborn and lie down.”

Thorin approached the bed. Lurtz bound his ankles and Bilbo his wrists. Lurtz fetched the needle while Bilbo held him down.

“Is this still necessary too?” Thorin asked.

“For now,” Bilbo said.

Lurtz pulled the needle out and Bilbo unbound Thorin’s wrists before moving to his feet while Lurtz took care of the needle. Once he’d backed away, Thorin sat up.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “I’m fine.” He pushed the trolley into the hallway and Lurtz locked the door. “What was that about? He acted as though I might be dying.”

“Honestly, I don’t know. But like I said, he’s got a crush on you so he might’ve just been worried about you. _Stop worrying_ over why Thorin likes you. He does, and it benefits everyone. Are you like this with every guy that likes you?”

“Most guys that have liked me in the past _are not_ living in a nut-house under my care nor have they made chills run up my spine…at least not bad ones.”

Lurtz shook his head. “All you have is a bad feeling. Kind of like…the feeling a teacher gets when their student has a crush on them.”

“I’m quite certain it’s not like that at all. It is closer to…have you read _the_ _Phantom of the Opera_?”

“I’ve seen the movie.”

“Thorin’s the phantom,” Bilbo said. “I don’t fancy being Christine.”

“You’d look very lovely in a corset,” Lurtz teased. Bilbo scowled at him.

#

He hung up the phone and massaged his temple, groaning.

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to rid his eyes of the _heaviness_ they felt. There was only so much _pointless_ gossip one harried grad student could take.

He never understood the reason for it and wished his grandmother had something _better_ to talk about than _the latest scandal._

He closed his eyes, still massaging his sore head, and ran through a mental checklist.

Homework?

Work? School?

Don’t have to worry about either until tomorrow.

Laundry?

Already folded and put away.

Dinner?

Already ate. Fuck, he wished he could cook, living off microwave dinners was _killing_ him, he knew it.

Bilbo groaned, and flopped onto his side, lying on the new, navy, microfiber loveseat he bought after four paychecks and stared at the bookcase now standing in front of the wall, wishing he had something—anything, really—to do.

He held his phone up again and shifted to lie on his back, scrolling through his (admittedly, depressingly small) contact list before settling on Bolg.

_Why not?_

He pressed send and pressed the phone to his ear.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Fancy a study break?” Bilbo asked. There was silence…Bilbo bit his tongue. “Bolg?”

“ _Thankyouthankyouthankyou…_ ”

“See you at Beorn’s in a few minutes, then.”


	5. Chapter 5

“They don’t take it as seriously as I’d like,” Bilbo muttered, staring at the amber liquid in his glass. “You’d think they’d be more concerned if someone said they were uncomfortable around a patient.

“Well, you do complain about Thorin a lot,” Bolg said. “Maybe it got old to them. I doubt my dad would keep him around if he was as dangerous as you think he was. He never attacks you, after all. As far as Blotaz and Lurtz are concerned, you’re like…Hercules or something. You control _the beast_.”

Bilbo wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “More like I’m slowly becoming Harley.”

“Harley?”

“The Joker’s girlfriend.”

“Except you’re gender bent,” Bolg pointed out. Bilbo lifted his glass to his lips. Red was a good color on him, and anyone could look good in black. But a red and black spandex one piece? He shook his head.R

“I would not look good in a black and red spandex suit complete with jester’s hat.”

“Mm…actually you might,” Bolg said. Bilbo flipped him off earning a shit eating grin. Bolg’s phone beeped and he glanced at the message, glaring at it.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said, turning it off.

 _Very suspicious,_ Bilbo thought. Couldn’t _really_ be nothing if it was making Bolg scowl so terribly. He decided to change the subject. “How are your classes going?”

Bolg groaned. “I hate Literature.”

“You’re a Lit major?” Bilbo asked. That wasn’t expected. No offense to him, but Bilbo didn’t peg Bolg to be the kind of bloke that had the patience for anything beyond comic books, given how he never once mentioned a book he was reading before…

“Architecture, actually,” Bolg said. Bilbo hummed. That made much more sense to him. "And possibly going into the army after college..."

“Not following Dad’s footsteps? I can drink to that. Sorry about...you told me your major before..."

"Long week?"

"Very," Bilbo sighed, cheeks tinging.

“Actually, I kind of am following his footsteps,” Bolg admitted. Bilbo finished his beer and pushed the glass aside. “My Dad was in the military until he got injured and became a psychologist. Before working at the asylum he was shrinking other veterans. Kind of thought it’d help them open up about what they saw if they talked to another former military officer.”

“Did it?”

Bolg nodded. “Certainly made growing up odd and hard to get away with stuff. He _always knew_ when I was lying.”

Bilbo snorted. “That sucks. So! Literature…you don’t like it. Need help?”

“Do you understand anything Johann Wolfgang von Goethe?”

“Possibly,” Bilbo said. _Goethe?_ He took his phone up, googling the poet. “I’m not making promises.”

“I’ll pay you,” Bolg said. Bilbo glared at him. “In _food_.”

“That’s not fair,” Bilbo groaned. “Fine, but only because you promised me free food.”

“I never said it’d be free. You’d be tutoring me, after all.”

“In _literature_ ,” Bilbo said, scrolling down. “The easiest subject on the planet.” Bolg rolled his eyes. “Math is harder.”

“Math’s easy. It’s straightforward. Literature is up, down, and sideways. Hell, sometimes it’s backwards and upside down,” Bolg said, reaching for Bilbo’s glass. “Want some more?”

“Might as well,” he sighed, wondering how to explain that the way Bolg described literature was completely true. It’s likely he just hadn’t found his preferred genre yet. Bilbo imagined him as an action/ adventure sort of guy, which, frequently, was joined by fantasy and sci-fi. Bilbo had a few books of his own that he could lend Bolg if he was interested.

He loved stories, always wondered what went on in the author’s head when he or she wrote. He often wondered what fueled their writing, what drove them to write what they wrote, and why they wrote. Apart from fantasy and adventure, Bilbo was very fond of psychological thrillers. Sometimes the occasional mystery, often he tried to profile the characters based on what he read.

For instance: in the fairy tale _Snow White_ , the Evil Queen desires to remain beautiful which stems from a desire to be young and when her youth is threatened, she is unable to cope, taking out her anger at the injustice that is aging on her younger stepdaughter, an innocent party, hence leading to a tale about escaping abuse or injustice.

Bolg returned, setting the glass in front of Bilbo.

“Thanks.”

Bolg nodded, already drinking. His eyes were looking elsewhere. He set his drink down. “Ori!” he called, waving at someone. He grinned at Bilbo. “You’d like Ori. He’s a Lit major in my class. Ori, over here!”

A boy, significantly smaller than Bolg—who was quite tall even by normal standards—smiled shyly at them. Bilbo half paid attention to their conversation: what they were doing at _Beorn’s_ , how classes were going, etc. Ori was meeting his older brother here for drinks but hadn’t spotted him yet. Bilbo ended up insisting that he grab a drink with them while waiting, delving into a discussion on Peter Huchel.

Every so often, Ori’s eyes shifted to the door or checked his watch.

“Is he late?” Bilbo asked.

“Very,” Ori said. He shrugged. “Not the first time Nori’s forgotten or ditched— _finally_!”

“Sorry I’m late.”

The man slid into the seat beside Bilbo. Unlike Ori, whose hair was light reddish blond, Nori’s hair was a deep-red brown. Their eyes were slightly different in color as well. Nori’s were dark blue while Ori’s were brown. The build between them was similar and Bilbo could only suppose the only way one would think otherwise was due to the way Nori held himself compared to Ori.

“Got stuck at work. I tried calling you, but…”

Ori winced. “I had a test today. I must have forgotten to turn it back on.”

“No one got stood up, so all’s well. Next round’s on me.”

“Are you sure you can afford it?” Ori asked. Nori stuck his tongue at him and went to order the rounds. Bolg cleared his throat, smirking at Bilbo. Bilbo glared back.

“Not bad…”

“Bolg, we discussed this,” Bilbo said. “You’re not allowed to be a little shit.”

“Ori, is your brother okay with men?”

“He is, actually,” Ori said, returning the grin. Bilbo stared, mouth dropping.

“Wait…”

“Yep,” Bolg said. Ori stood. “Enjoy your date.”

“You two are incorrigible!” Bilbo shouted. They laughed, disappearing into the crowd. Bilbo turned back in his seat, arms crossed and glaring at the empty glass before him. Nori returned, setting down four glasses of beer on the table.

“Where did they go? Bathroom?”

“No,” Bilbo said. “This was a set up.”

“What?” Nori asked. He slid into the seat across from Bilbo. “They just left?”

“Apparently, they thought we should meet.”

“Why?” Nori asked. Bilbo shrugged. He hadn’t a clue. He thanked Nori for the beer and drank. Nori fidgeted in his seat, drumming his fingers against the table. “Are you…not from Germany? You’ve got a bit of an accent.”

“I’m from England.”

It was a start.

#

He woke to a kiss being pressed into his shoulder and the bed dipping beneath him. Bilbo hid his face in the pillow as soon as…whoever he was with closed the door. He looked around, recognizing his things. Okay, he wasn’t anywhere unfamiliar.

Good. That’s good.

And what was that kiss for? Bilbo eased up, feeling a slight twinge in his bottom.

_Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh fucking shit!_

He groaned, laying back down. His head hurt, he was naked, and he guessed he might have had sex with someone he met last night. He wasn’t a stranger to one night stands or anything like that, nor was he a stranger to drunken blackouts. Mixing the two, however…

This was new and he was slightly afraid of who he’d find in the other room. The last thing he remembered was talking with Nori after Ori and Bolg abandoned them.

Bilbo got out of bed and pulled on his underwear and some sweats, tiptoeing into the kitchen, shielding his eyes from the light. He stumbled into the wall and groaned, bracing himself.

“Good morning.”

“Yeah, same to you,” Bilbo said, relieved to see Nori handing him a cup. “What’s this?”

“Ginger tea with honey,” Nori said. “My older brother’s a tea addict and this works really well…after a couple cups.” Bilbo took the mug and sipped the tea, leaning against the wall. He’d have to see whether it really worked or not, but it tasted good.

“Do you remember what happened last night?” Bilbo asked.

“Enough of it,” he said. “Blacked out?”

“Yeah, I feel bad now,” Bilbo mumbled into his cup.

Nori scoffed. “I don’t mind. Nor am I upset. It happens.”

“You usually don’t want the person you sleep with admitting it,” Bilbo said.

“How many drinks did you have before I showed?”

Bilbo blinked, trying to think. He shook his head. “Ask me when my headache’s gone,” he said. Nori hummed, leaning against the wall across from Bilbo.

“You know, it _wasn’t_ all that bad.” Bilbo almost choked on the tea, coughing. Nori grinned. “You were eager and almost begging…”

_Oh God, what did I do last night? Damn it, I wish I remembered._

Nori pressed in on him, gripping his hips and pulling him closer, whispering what happened last night in Bilbo’s ear. Finding himself back in his room for repeats was far from the plan—given he had to get to school _some time_ —but welcome.

Whether he would see Nori again was up in the air.

After all, what would be the point of seeing someone again if you walked away from having sex with them feeling guilty?

More importantly, he wanted to know why he felt guilty at all.


	6. Chapter 6

When Bilbo arrived at work, he learned that Lurtz had called in sick so when it came time to venture into D Wing, Bilbo went with Blotaz. It was nice to catch up with him, laughing at whatever joke he decided to recite. It kept him mirthful through the rounds and he was grinning when they entered Thorin’s room.

They tied him down and gave him the shot. Quick and painless. Bilbo untied Thorin while Blotaz disposed of the needle. Thorin stood and grabbed Bilbo’s wrist.

“Thorin?”

Bilbo tried to tug his wrist free, but Thorin pushed him against the wall. Blotaz seized Thorin’s arms, attempting to pull him off. Thorin growled, turning around and slamming his fist into Blotaz’s gut.

“Thorin, stop!” Bilbo said, grabbing his arm. “ _Stop_!”

Thorin punched Blotaz in the jaw, sending him to the floor before he pinned Bilbo to the wall again, crushing his lips to Bilbo’s. Bilbo gasped, trying to free his hands from Thorin’s grip and shove him off. Thorin pressed against Bilbo, biting his lip between his teeth.

 _Get him off!_ Bilbo thought, trying to shove Thorin away. _Get him off!!_

Thorin was wrenched off him and pinned to the ground by three orderlies.

“Come on,” Blotaz said, leading him out of the room. “You okay?”

Bilbo leaned against the wall, shaking his head and rubbing his chest and neck as a panic attack tried to override his senses. _I’m not going to cry_ , he told himself. _I will not cry_.

“Honestly, no. I’m not.”

Blotaz sighed. “Damn it, we should’ve listened to you, Bilbo. I’m sorry.”

Bilbo swallowed. His saliva tasted metallic and he touched his lips with a shaking hand. He pulled it away, staring at the blood covering his fingers.

Blotaz helped him back up. “Let’s get that looked at.”

Bilbo nodded, following Blotaz out of the wing and to a medical office. A nurse examined Bilbo’s lip, assuring him that it was just cut and would heal on his own.

She then took a look at the bruise on Blotaz’s jaw.

“Has anything like this happened before? With Thorin or anyone else?”

“No,” Blotaz said, wincing as she poked at his injury. “Punching people, yes, but I’ve never seen any of them kiss someone that violently.”

“But people have been kissed before.”

“Not by Thorin, and certainly not hard enough to draw blood,” he assure him. The door opened and Dr. Gundebad entered. Blotaz saluted him. “Doctor.”

“What happened?” He asked. “I was told there was an incident with Thorin.” Bilbo retold the events of just a few minutes ago, watching the shock and anger mar the doctor’s features.

“Bilbo, when you’re done here. Go home.”

“What?” Bilbo asked, fear rising in his voice.

“You’re done for the day. Rest. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he said, his fear deflating. He laughed at himself for thinking he’d been fired.

After he was certain Blotaz would be fine, he changed out of his scrubs, packed his things, and left. He touched his stinging lips again and shuddered.

 _Don’t cry_ , he said. _Not yet. Wait._

Once at home, he leaned against his door and slid to the ground, hiding his face in his hands and wept.

#

Classes were a blur.

He couldn’t concentrate on anything but the fear he felt in the wake of going to Moria later that day. He didn’t think he’d be made to give Thorin his medicine again at this point, but he couldn’t be sure. He knew he would have to face this fear, but was he ready to just yet.

Bilbo kept touching his still smarting lips, the memory seared into his brain. His fingers trembled as they gently traced over the dried bite marks. It stung and he sucked in a breath each time his fingers brushed over them. He lowered his hand and left campus for work.

As he changed into his scrubs, Dr. Gundebad called him to his office. He knocked tentatively on the door, waiting for admittance. When the muffled call of _come in_ came, he stepped into the office.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” he said. “It’s about Thorin.”

“I thought it might be,” Bilbo said. “I don’t know what prompted him to kiss me.”

“Nothing save his own obsession,” Dr. Gundebad assured him. “While I still think you can handle the D Wing patients, you won’t be giving Thorin his medicine anymore. We’ve managed Thorin before you started working here and we can do so again.”

“Obsession?” Bilbo asked.

Dr. Gundebad shrugged. “I talked to him this morning. He’s fixated on you. Believes that he’s in love with you. Normally I wouldn’t tell you this, but as he’s proven to be dangerous to everyone around him, even to those he claims to love, well, I wouldn’t want you ignorant of how he feels for you since he’s already attacked you once.”

“So you think it’s real? What he feels?”

“Maybe, but I’d still tread carefully.”

Once Bilbo was dismissed to do his rounds, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

He didn’t have to give Thorin his medicine. This one day, he didn’t have to go into that room and tie him down. He didn’t have to struggle to avoid Thorin’s piercing stare.

Toward the end of his shift, a pair of Orderlies exited Thorin’s room.

“Just two?” Bilbo asked.

Lurtz nodded at him, closing the door. “Thorin’s in a jacket right now. Can’t really do much like that, you know. He wasn’t happy you weren’t there, though.”

“No, I would guess not,” Bilbo said.

“We’re grabbing drinks after if you like.”

“Sure.”

Bilbo paused at Thorin’s door as the others walked away, staring at the door. When they were gone, he opened the door and stepped inside.

The voice screaming _stop don’t do this_ was ignored.

Perhaps he should listen to it. He didn’t want to see Thorin. He thought he didn’t want to see him, anyway. He stepped into the room and saw Thorin lying on the bed.

Thorin looked like a cat forced to take its medicine. He probably was a lot like a cat forced to take his medicine from the stories he’d been told before he joined the group which administered the medicine.

The jacket covered Thorin from his neck down to his feet, arms strapped over his chest and legs strapped shut. A mask was placed around his mouth, slits allowed him to breathe.

Bilbo tried not to shudder. It didn’t look comfortable and maybe it wasn’t supposed to be.

He opened his eyes and looked at Bilbo.

“They said you wouldn’t be coming.”

“I shouldn’t have,” Bilbo said.

“Or perhaps you’re just my imagination again,” Thorin said.

Bilbo swallowed. “Maybe I am.”

“Must be,” Thorin said sadly. “He doesn’t talk to me much. He’d never come in here alone.”

 _Must be losing my own mind, then_ , Bilbo thought. “Why did you attack me— _him_ yesterday? You must have a reason.”

Thorin blinked at him. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“But you did, so why?”

“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Answer the question,” Bilbo said, his patience fraying. “ _Why_?”

Thorin winced, turning his face into the pillow. “I love him,” he said. “He’s the only thing here that could possibly bring some good. He is my Arkenstone. He is my One. My beloved.”

 Bilbo left, shutting the door behind him and fled D Wing. He locked the door behind him and leaned against it, closing his eyes.

_This is bad._

The walk to Beorn’s was slow for Bilbo despite the laughter of his companions.

He held his phone in front of him, scrolling down the possibilities for what an “Arkenstone” was.

All he got was that it was one of the most prized possessions of Thorin’s old business, now owned by his sister, _Erebor_.

It was a crystal or diamond passed down from parent to child in the Durin family for generations. For generations, the men of the Durin line would fall to some sort of madness or other and for many decades, it was believed that the Arkenstone was the root of the madness.

At least until genetics came to light and the idea that a pretty _stone_ could be the cause of generations of madness fell out of use. That didn’t stop it from being prized among the Durins as their most precious heirloom.

Bilbo tried to think of his family’s equivalent. For him, he guessed that was his parents’ house, Bag End. However, even if he was madly, irrevocably, over the top in love with someone to the point of obsession—in which case, he’d question the validity of that love—he didn’t think he’d start calling the person he loved _Bag End_.

That would be a little bit silly. The thought made him snort, though.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he said, putting his phone back in his pocket. “My grandmother lost her glasses again. This time, they were in the refrigerator. Who does that?” They laughed and Bilbo managed to grin beneath the lie, pushing down the fear trying to build inside him.

He decided he wasn’t going back into that room again. He’d never go back into Thorin’s room.

Being near each other wasn’t going to help either of them. Bilbo couldn’t work confidently with Thorin near. And Thorin was not getting better by seeing him.

 _It’s for the best_ , he told himself.


	7. Chapter 7

The next week passed as calmly as it could for Bilbo. He felt rather confident about his grade for the sociology test he took the week before and was eager to get his grade back. He called Nori and asked him out to coffee over the weekend (was not that bad of a weekend, either). He ended up staring to spend a little more time in D wing when Sméagol asked him if he liked games. Both of them were rather fond of riddles and it kept Sméagol in a relatively good mood so long as he had his ring with him.

As for Thorin, Bilbo didn’t see him and the absence of him made wondrous changes in Bilbo’s mood and work. He saw four orderlies going in on Tuesday, telling him that Thorin likely was out of the jacket. Moments later, he was startled by screams and curses.

 _Jesus_ , he thought, worried about the others.

A few minutes later, they came out, looking a little bit haggard.

“Everything okay?” he asked. Blotaz nodded, threading his fingers through his hair.

“Well, I’m not going to say it’s good to see Thorin back to, well, normal, I guess,” Lurtz said. “But all things considered…”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be much help.”

“No,” Blotaz said. “You did the right thing telling the doctor and you really shouldn’t be near him if he makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’d be easier if Thorin wasn’t such a troublemaker. Or less violent. How’s Sméagol?”

“Not bad,” Bilbo said. “Compared to Thorin, he’s a piece of cake.” They stared at him. “ _Piece of cake_? You know? Easy.”

“Oh,” Lurtz said. “We usually say _it’s no art_.”

Bilbo shrugged. “At least he got the straight jacket off, right?”

“Sometimes I wish Dr. Gundebad would have him keep it _on_ ,” Blotaz muttered.

Bilbo could agree if what he heard was really what went on before he started working at the asylum. He wasn’t sure which Thorin he preferred: the one who violently resisted getting his medicine or the one who stared at him and was obsessed with him.

“Thorin asks after you, you know,” Blotaz said as they left D Wing. “Wants to know where you are and why you’ve not been coming in.”

“Does he know why?”

“He’s smart,” Blotaz said. “He can guess. Doesn’t make him any better, though.”

“No. I suppose it wouldn’t,” Bilbo sighed. “He’s no one to blame but himself.”

“Well, you’re fine, at least.”

“Still a tad traumatized,” Bilbo corrected, “but otherwise, yes I am.” They got to the locker room and began to change.

“Coming drinking?”

“I would but I’ve a meeting with my adviser tomorrow morning. I’d rather show up sober, thanks.” _Not that Gandalf would give a shit_ , he added to himself.

“What for?”

“Just breakfast…he’s actually a friend of my grandfather’s and I bet he pulled strings so he could be my adviser too.”

Blotaz arched a brow. “Really?”

“Considering whom he is and what my grandfather is like, I’m _not_ surprised they became friends.”

“Well, good luck with your meeting then.” Blotaz closed his locker door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bilbo.”

“Bye.” Blotaz left the room and Bilbo finished changing back into jeans, carefully folding his scrubs, placed them in the locker and closed the door before he grabbed his briefcase and clocked off.

#

Bilbo entered _Café Hüller_ at eight—two hours before the café opened, but Gandalf usually had an unnatural amount of sway over different staff members and if he wanted something done, it usually got done. Including opening a store two hours in advance, which Bilbo believed must be some sort of abuse of power.

He sat down at a table by the window and watched as the rain beat down on the street. He was glad he brought an umbrella. It was cloudy earlier, but there was no smell of rain on the air when he left until he felt a drop on his head.

“Good morning, Bilbo.”

He looked up at Gandalf and smiled as the elderly man slid into the seat opposite him. “Morning, Gandalf,” he replied before immediately being engaged in small talk:

Gandalf asked after Bilbo’s classes and his professors, asking if he made any friends at LMU—which he hadn’t. He spent more time out with his coworkers at Moria and said as much—and asking him how he enjoyed working at Moria. Gandalf also inquired about where Bilbo was staying, if it was too his liking our not. Bilbo assured him it was.

“I am glad to hear you are enjoying your time in Munich,” Gandalf said, “Even if only a little. Though, I doubt your grandmother would appreciate you working with the more dangerous patients.”

Bilbo shrugged. “It’s not that bad. I only couldn’t get comfortable around Thorin.”

“Thorin? You mean Thorin Oakenshield?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “Why?”

“He’s at the asylum you work at?”

“Yes, Gandalf, what is going on? I thought you’d know that he was sick.”

“I heard he was, but I didn’t know he was at _Moria_.”

Bilbo furrowed his brow. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Gandalf waved him off, taking a sip of tea. “It may be nothing. He and Moria’s chief psychiatrist Azog Gundebad have a rather rough past together. Azog was Thorin’s commanding officer in the army a few years ago. They never got along. Thorin was convinced that Azog was violating some sort conduct in one way or other.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t know. Thorin never said. Nor could he prove it. I’ll have to speak with Dis about this…”

“Wait, you know him?”

“Of course,” Gandalf said, leaning on the table. “I’ve known the Oakenshield family for nearly as long as I have known the Bagginses. I even managed to get Gerontius and Thorin’s grandfather Thror to have a dinner party together once. Can’t say it went well. Thror was a rather hotheaded and prideful man and Gerontius does have a way of calling out others on their crap. He had _far_ too much fun annoying Thror that day.”

Bilbo smiled. That did sound like his grandfather. “While I do find your connection to Thorin interesting, Gandalf, I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Why not?”

Bilbo clicked his tongue, wondering if he should tell Gandalf. He shook his head. Telling him would lead to talking about it. “Let’s just say I’m not comfortable around him and leave it at that.” Gandalf arched a brow. Bilbo slumped his shoulders. “Please? It’s been a rather harrowing few months.”

“Very well,” Gandalf said. “Thank you for telling me he was at Moria. If he is sick, he needs to be someplace he feels safe and _that_ place will not do it. Not with Azog in charge.”

“Gandalf I don’t see what you have against Dr. Gundebad. He gave me a job that lines up perfectly with my classes. It pays well and, over all, it’s not a bad place to be. I don’t think he’s letting whatever vendetta he has against Thorin get in the way of his work. He’s never let on that he knew Thorin before or that he has anything against him. If his family put him in Moria it’s because they believe that Moria is the best place for him.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“But that’s just _you_.”

Gandalf narrowed his eyes. “What _did_ Thorin do to you that makes you feel uncomfortable?”

“I told you,” Bilbo said, picking up his tea cup. “I’d rather not discuss it. So _please_ drop it.”

Gandalf arched a brow. Bilbo ignored him. “Is this something I will need to involve your grandparents in? This fear of Thorin?”

“No, of course not,” BIlbo said. “I can handle it. I _have_ handled it.”

“Then why do you not want to talk about it. For an aspiring psychologist you should know that talking about what bothers you allows you to begin overcoming it.”

Bilbo glared at him. “There are some things I would prefer to keep away from my grandparents and their friends and this thing is one of them. I don’t want to talk about it because in the end, I still have to go back to Moria and work there where he’s incarcerated. I won’t ask you again: _drop it_.”

Gandalf leaned back. “You say you are handling it, yet you still have so much hostility.”

“Of course I’m hostile! The son of a bitch nearly ripped my lip off when he kissed me a week ago!” Bilbo snapped. Gandalf’s brows shot up. Bilbo closed his eyes. _Fuck_. “Look, I’m fine. You can see I’m fine.”

“He _kissed_ you? How unusual. Thorin was never one for romance before.”

“Well he’s certainly amorous toward me. Dr. Gundebad called it an obsession and I think he’s right. I was just freed from having to deal with him and I just want to forget about it if I can.”

“That’s not like you, Bilbo. Thorin is attached to you—which is odd enough—take the opportunity.”

“It’s not an opportunity, Gandalf! It’s disturbing. No one else would be mad enough to encourage this!”

Gandalf waited for Bilbo to take a breath. “Do you know, Thorin’s ailment is hereditary? Passes from parent to child?”

“Yes.”

“They used to call what his family had ‘gold madness.’ The Oakenshield family is descended from royalty and has long held onto their wealth even after the monarchy ended. They were shrewd businessmen, very Machiavellian. There was a stone…”

“The Arkenstone.”

“Yes. It was so precious to this family that it was said to be the root of the madness for generations. We know now that the stone _couldn’t_ have been the root of the madness because it’s just _that_ : A very pretty rock. We know now that it is a rather odd strain of schizophrenia. However, this _fixation_ is very strong. They can fixate on anything. Most simply _chose_ to fixate on the Arkenstone because it was the symbol of their family’s wealth and prosperity. For Thorin, who has always done things alone, it seems natural that he would fixate on finding love.”

“I don’t love him.”

“No, but he _thinks_ he loves you.”

“I am not going to entertain that.”

“Nor should you, but a little kindness can a long way, Bilbo. Before he kissed—”

Bilbo glared at him.

“ _Assaulted_ you,” Gandalf corrected, “How did he act? Differently?”

“I was told he was violent, erratic. He’d fight. But when I came in, that changed. He’d just stare at me and it was bloody awkward.”

“What do you do with other patients?”

“I play games with them sometimes, make sure they get their medicine—you know: my _job_.”

“Then start going back in. If you calmed him before, perhaps you might be the key to making him better.”

“We tried that already!”

Gandalf leaned forward. “Try again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://german.about.com/library/blredew_K.htm


	8. Chapter 8

He arrived at work early with a cup of tea in hand. Dealing with Gandalf often meant having at least _one_ more cup of tea—especially when, like a sports coach, he tells you to do the one thing you _really_ don’t want to do. He’d at least ask and if Dr. Gundebad said no…well, Bilbo could say he did try and shrug it off and go continue on his day.

Bilbo finished his tea and tossed the paper cup in the trash bin. He changed into his scrubs and said hello to the lass at the front desk. She gave him a long suffering grin and Bilbo paused. Shelur was usually free with her smiles and he inquired what was wrong.

“Rough morning, is all,” she said. “Thorin was acting up.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Depends on whether you like washing soiled sheets.”

He cringed. “Uh…I’m going to regret asking, but soiled as in…”

“Semen.”

 _Oh, okay,_ he thought. From Shelur’s look, it might’ve been urine or vomit. It was awkward, but quite normal for those who bore _male_ bodily functions. Bleeding out your nether regions was _far_ more cringe worthy in Bilbo’s book.

“He was _far_ too smug with himself when he told us.”

 _Too much information_ , Bilbo thought. He really didn’t need to know that Thorin masturbated. “It happens,” he said with a shrug.

“Yes, but you aren’t going around declaring it like a pubescent boy.”

“No, that’s true. See you later, Shelly.” Bilbo made to leave the front desk, but paused. “What happened to the directories?”

“What do you mean?” she asked. Bilbo picked up one of the books. It was bent and crumpled whereas the other books were still pristinely stacked on top of each other. Shelur furrowed her brow. “I didn’t notice that.”

Bilbo opened the book. The first page had been ripped out. He looked in another directory to see who was on that page. A couple of nurses whose last names began with _A_ , followed by _Bach, Bader_ , and then Bilbo. He panicked.

 _Calm down, Bilbo,_ he said as he closed his eyes and took a breath. _Calm down. It probably isn’t anything._

“Shelly,” Bilbo said, “Who’s in the security room right now?”

“Um…Gujek and Cagan, I think. Why. Is something wrong?”

“A page is missing. It might be nothing, but someone on it might have…well…”

“A stalker?” Shelur asked. The corners of her mouth quirked up. “Do you _know_ how rare that is? The only one I know of that’s got a stalker is you and your _stalker_ is locked up in D Wing.”

Bilbo glared at her. “You’re hilarious,” he muttered as he headed to the security room.

Shelur beamed. “I’m adorable and you know it.”

He rolled his eyes and headed to the Security room. Gujek was napping while Cagan’s eyes flitted from screen to screen. He jumped when Bilbo opened the door.

“ _Damn,_ Baggins, you’re a mouse!” Cagan snapped.

Gujek opened his eyes. “How’s it going?”

“Good, considering someone got to one of the directories,” he handed the damaged book to Gujek. “The first page is ripped out.” Gujek sat up, suddenly alert, and took the book from Bilbo. “I brought another one too.”

“Good,” Gujek said—he was once a police inspector before retiring to and joining the security team at Moria. Retirement didn’t suit him well. “We’ll look through last night’s tapes.”

“Okay,” Bilbo said. “Thanks.” He left them.

_Who was it?_

It really could’ve been Thorin, Bilbo knew, and that sent shivers down his spine. It curled around his gut and clenched. Bilbo groaned as though punched and supported himself against a wall. He gulped down air until the dizziness passed and he didn’t feel like he’d spew.

Finally, he felt well again and he went to work, successfully pushing all thoughts of Thorin out of his mind. Once medicine was distributed, he and Blotaz went to engage Sméagol in a game of Clue.

They almost reached the end of the game when cursing and screaming cut through the peace. Bilbo and Blotaz looked at the door.

“Thorin again?”

“Caramel Mustard with the lead pipe in the library,” Sméagol declared.

Bilbo and Blotaz glared at Sméagol. He was holding the cards that were put in the envelope and beaming. He giggled.

“Sméagol, we talked about this: if you aren’t going to let _us_ cheat, then you cannot cheat either,” Bilbo said, resisting the urge to wag his finger at him. He did once and Sméagol snapped his teeth at it as a joke. Bilbo didn’t think it was that funny. He could live without a finger, though. A mouth, however, he wasn’t willing to part with.

Sméagol giggled again, completely unremorseful.

Bilbo winced at the pained scream.

“He’ll settle down,” Blotaz said. “Eventually.” Something crashed against the wall, and Bilbo and Blotaz cringed. “What in the name of all that’s good is going on in there?”

The scream that followed jolted Bilbo into action. He stood and left Sméagol’s room. Blotaz followed, asking Bilbo what he was doing. Bilbo stood in front of Thorin’s room, fingers curled around the handle.

“Bilbo, you don’t have to go in,” Blotaz said. “In fact, I suggest you don’t. They’ll get him to settle down.”

He wanted to believe that. He took a breath and opened the door.

“Bilbo!”

Thorin is slamming an orderly’s head into the metal post of his bed when Bilbo reaches him. He put his hand on Thorin’s shoulder. Thorin turned to him, hand poised to strike, and paused.

“Bilbo?” he whispered.

“Let him go,” Bilbo said. Thorin didn’t move. “Let him go, Thorin, and I’ll come back. Okay?” Thorin loosened his grip and Lurtz pulled the other away from him. Bilbo looked at him. “Get him to the infirmary.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve got this,” Bilbo said. He won’t deny that he was afraid. He was terrified. But he had to hope that Thorin wouldn’t attack him again. He truly hoped he wouldn’t. “And maybe get the doctor?” Lurtz grunted an affirmation and all but Blotaz fled.

Thorin fell to his knees, embracing Bilbo around the waist and pressed his face into Bilbo’s stomach. Bilbo urged himself to relax, to keep calm…he couldn’t let Thorin sense how terrified he really was.

“I’m sorry,” Thorin wept. “I’m sorry. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave again. I love you. I didn’t mean to hurt you.  Please, Bilbo, don’t leave again. I need you, my Arkenstone.”

Bilbo swallowed. “Will you take your medicine if I give it to you?” Thorin nodded, hugging Bilbo tighter. Bilbo looked at Blotaz, who shrugged. “Okay. You need to let me go first,” Bilbo said. “I’m not going to disappear, okay? I’m right here.”

Thorin gave him one last squeeze, then released him, getting back onto is legs. His eyes were red and there were tear tracks down his face and the loss of warmth made the tear stains on his scrubs chilled his skin.

“Lie down on the bed,” Bilbo said, guiding him back to it. Thorin obeyed and Bilbo tied him down. The door opened and Dr. Gundebad entered.

“What are you doing?!” he snapped. Bilbo looked at him. “We agreed you would not come in here again.”

“And it’s making the situation worse,” Bilbo said, closing the distance between them so that Thorin wouldn’t overhear. “Let me try again. Please? I’m not saying this makes me comfortable because it _doesn’t_ , but can’t I try again?”

Dr. Gundebad’s nostrils flared, staring at Thorin, pliant on the bed and watching them keenly.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll give it another shot, but if he assaults you again, then that’s it. No more chances.”

Bilbo agreed and retrieved a needle. He took a breath, trying to calm his shaking hands. He approached Thorin, rubbed the skin with an alcohol swab, and jabbed Thorin’s arm with the needlepoint, injecting the medicine. Thorin showed little discomfort and Bilbo pulled away. He disposed of the needle and untied Thorin.

Thorin grabbed his wrist. “You’ll stay?”

“I’ll come back,” Bilbo promised.

Thorin grinned and kissed Bilbo’s wrist. Bilbo tried to keep his discomfort down, but the same queasiness he felt when the thought Thorin might have taken the page from the directory returned.

He swallowed. “Tomorrow then,” he said and pulled his hand away. They fled the room.

“Want to have another round of Clue with Sméagol?” Blotaz asked.

“No,” Bilbo said. “I’m fine. I just need to calm down and…yeah…that’s about it.” They left D Wing.

“Bilbo, a word,” Dr. Gundebad said. Bilbo wanted to flee to the bathroom before he vomited. He followed Dr. Gundebad to his office anyway.

“I know I shouldn’t have gone in, but he would’ve killed someone, the way he was going today,” Bilbo said. “I had to try—”

“And you did very well,” he said, leaning against his desk. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but maybe we can give this another shot. However, Thorin won’t talk to me. Each time I bring you up, try to get him to tell me what it is about you that’s made him fixate on you, he clamps his mouth shut and refuses to say anything. Perhaps he’ll talk to you. You’re studying to be a psychologist.”

“Um, yes.” Bilbo hadn’t a clue where this conversation would go to exactly and that made him a bit nervous. “But I don’t understand what you expect from me. Do you want me to…to talk to him? As in be his shrink?”

“Talk to him, yes, but no, the shrinking, part will still be me. I simply would like you to be at his sessions with me. Perhaps he’ll open up to you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Neither is letting you go back in, but it seems that the bad ideas are the only ones that seem to work so long as Thorin doesn’t try anything. Where I stand, he won’t so long as you have more than one other person with you. You can do this, Bilbo.”

_Wonderful. I’m the Thorin-Whisperer._

Bilbo sighed. “What else do I have to lose?”

“We’ll figure it out when the time comes,” Dr. Gundebad said. “Thank you for acting when you were needed. I don’t like that Thorin’s obsessed with you, but you do control him to some extent. I’ll even pay you a little extra if need be. This isn’t part of the original job description after all.”

Bilbo hummed, staring at his feet. “Can I think on it?”

Dr. Gundebad nodded. “Yes. Let me know when you’ve decided.” Bilbo nodded and made to leave. “Bilbo, thank you.”

Bilbo blinked, staring at him. “You’re welcome, I suppose.” He left the office and clocked off, heading to change into his day clothes and go home.

 _Could’ve been worse,_ he thought.


	9. Chapter 9

He woke with a shout, sweat sticking his pajamas to his skin.

Bilbo’s hands shook and he lied back down on the bed, covering his eyes with his forearm, gasping for breath as heavy sobs shook his body. He’d not been reduced to tears from a nightmare since he was five and he hated the fear which took over him.

He turned the light on and climbed out of bed, deciding to take a shower. “Thorin isn’t here,” he whispered as the water beat down his back. “Nothing’s going to happen. I’m all right. I’m all right.”

He turned the water off and dried himself before changing into a pair grey sweat pants and a large t-shirt. Bilbo turned on more lights and reached for his iPod and book just as his phone began to ring.

Bilbo stared at it like it had sprouted arms and legs and began to tap dance. He picked it up and stared at the screen. _Moria_ stared back at him in digital letters. He guessed one of his coworkers needed an extra pair of hands. Bilbo answered.

“Hello?” Save for the deep breaths on the other end, he had no answer. Bilbo frowned. “Hello? Who’s this?” A gasp. The breathing deepened.

“ _Oh…_ ”

Bilbo hung up and turned off the phone. _How did Thorin get my phone number?_ He thought. His mind went to the missing page in the directory. This wasn’t good.

 _Maybe I’m way over my head_ , Bilbo though.

He grabbed a Monty Python DVD and put the disk in the player. Bilbo sat on the couch with his legs pulled up to his chin and stared at the screen as _Life of Brian_ began.

#

Half the day passed with Bilbo wondering if it was a dream. Or rather hoping it was a dream as he did wake up on his couch with the _Life of Brian_ main menu staring back at him.

“You look tired,” Blotaz deadpanned the moment he saw Bilbo.

“Really? I feel like a bouquet of fresh daisies,” Bilbo muttered behind a yawn. “I couldn’t sleep last night.”

“Why?”

Bilbo waved him off. “It’s nothing. Just a rough night.”

He paused, hearing a deep laugh, and turned toward the day room. Thorin sat at a table in the back by an open window. A little boy of five sat on his lap, holding a crayon in his hand. Another boy, about eight sat at the middle of the table and across from Thorin was a pertly dressed woman in a slim black skirt. Her black hair was pulled back into a strict bun.

“Who’s that?”

“Thorin’s sister and nephews,” Blotaz said. “He almost always seems to be healthy again when he sees them. I guess that’s family for you.”

“Why be here if that was true?”

“Well, they tried, when he first started showing symptoms. They sent him here after he attacked his assistant.”

“And his sister now runs the family business, right?”

Blotaz nodded. Bilbo watched a little longer, wondering how someone whose life seemed to be so intact could just deteriorate into such a violent state. Anyone could see he loved his family.

Thorin embraced the little boy, who giggled when Thorin rubbed his cheek against his cheek. Dis smiled at the scene, but it was guarded. To Bilbo, she looked almost afraid, maybe not of her brother but for her sons. She turned her head and their eyes locked. She arched her thin eyebrow in challenge.

Bilbo blushed and walked away.

“Bilbo,” Thorin called.

 _Drat_ , he thought, turning back toward them. The youngest stared at him wide eyed and the older one kept his gaze on his paper, drawing carefully so not to break the crayons.

“Who’s he, Uncle Thorin?” The boy asked. His eyes, unlike his mother’s and uncle’s, were hazel brown.

Bilbo glanced at Dis, seeking permission. She nodded, eyeing him coldly. It wasn’t hostile, but guarded. Bilbo wondered if she was able to trust anyone at this point. He knelt down and smiled at him.

“I’m Bilbo.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“I’m a nurse.” It was an easier word than orderly for a child to understand.

“I thought only girls could be nurses.”

“Boys can be nurses too, Kili,” Dis told him. “Don’t listen to everything Grandpa Fundin says. He’s old fashioned.”

“That means he lives in the past,” Kili said. “And Mama says it’s better to live in the present or the future.”

“You’re mother’s a smart lady,” Bilbo said, grinning at Kili.

Kili giggled. “I know. Lots of people are scared of her.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Bilbo said, looking at Dis, who was no smiling in an impressed sort of way. “She doesn’t seem scary to me. But then again, it’s a bad idea to cross a mother, you know. And if she’s scary, it’s probably because she’s secretly a great and powerful queen.”

Thorin snorted and Kili’s eyes widened. “Really?!” he gasped. Kili turned to Dis. “Mama, are you really a queen?”

“No, she’s not,” the older boy snapped. “Mom’s a CEO, Stupid.”

Dis grabbed his arm and hissed something in his ear. Rebuked, he stood and fled the day room. “I’m sorry about him,” Dis said. “The last few years have been hard on our family.”

Bilbo stood. “I’m not offended. I’m sure your son’s a good boy.”

“He is,” Dis said. “But Fili’s getting to _that_ age. God knows, I’m not ready for teenagers. I take it you spend much time with Thorin?”

“I’m…well…yes,” Bilbo said. “In a way.”

“He doesn’t give you any grief, does he?” Dis asked. Bilbo bowed his head. He couldn’t answer that truthfully. Dis lowered her voice. “It’s just that, I’m often getting calls about him breaking something or hurting someone and recently, they’ve…died down. And just now, when he called to you, he looked so happy. I’ve never seen him smile so brightly before. And never at someone who’s not our family. Even when he was dating, he never really smiled at his partners.”

“He, uh,” Bilbo bit his lip. “Well, somehow, he’s fixated on me.”

Dis hummed. “Well, he did have a type…but then again, since he’s your patient, it wouldn’t be appropriate. So I guess he’s been making things difficult for you.”

“You’ve no idea.”

Her eyes shifted every so often to Thorin and Kili, every watching. She turned back to him. “He attacked you? I got a call that he had…kissed someone?” Bilbo winced. “I’m surprised you decided to work with him again.”

“So am I. But I seem to be the only one he listens to, so I suppose that’s just a risk I have to take.”

“I am sorry,” Dis said. “But thank you. Whatever it is about you that Thorin likes, it seems to calm him down. He’s been afraid of so much lately and that just…it makes him act like a wild animal.” Bilbo looked at Thorin, Kili had coerced him into drawing.

“I’m not sure I’m really doing anything to help him get better.”

“He’ll never be better,” Dis said, “not really. If his medicine ever starts working, he might be able to come back and work as a co-CEO with me at Erebor. A big if.” She stood. “Kili, it’s time to go.”

“But—”

“We got to find Fili and then we have to meet Daddy for dinner,” Dis said. “Say goodbye to Uncle Thorin, sweetie.” Kili pouted and hugged Thorin around the neck.

“Bye Uncle Thorin.”

Thorin didn’t answer, but a light in his eyes dimmed. Kili jumped off his lap and followed his mother toward the exit. Bilbo sighed, getting to his feet.

“Okay, Thorin, time to go back to your room,” he said, gently laying his hand on Thorin’s shoulder. He frowned, staring at the picture Thorin had drawn. Grotesque, snarling faces stared back at them from the page. All of them were in orderlies scrubs. One, a pale, scarred monster resembled Dr. Gundebad far too much. “Thorin, what is this?”

“Everyone,” he said. “Everyone but my family. Everyone but you.”

Bilbo swallowed. “Okay. Thorin, you do know that even if this is what you see, no one here is trying to hurt you. We’re only trying to help.” Thorin shook his head. Bilbo sighed. “Okay. Ready to go back?” Thorin stood and Bilbo called for Blotaz to help him escort Thorin back to D Wing.

Once Thorin was back in his room, he laid on the bed, back facing them. Bilbo locked the door. “So his family visits often?”

“Nope. I kind of wish they did. He really loves his nephews and sister. But I guess an asylum isn’t really a good place for a kid to hang out.”

Bilbo agreed, but their being here, and the pictures, gave him an itch he could not reach. He and Blotaz went their separate ways after that and Bilbo found the drawing again. He went to Dr. Gundebad’s office and rapped on the door.

It swung open and Bilbo handed him the picture.

“What’s this?”

“What Thorin sees when he looks at us,” Bilbo said. “Would that explain his violent behavior somewhat?” He followed the doctor inside and closed the door.

Dr. Gundebad leaned against his seat. “He sees you like this too?”

“He said he didn’t. He said everyone but his family and me looked like that to him.”

The doctor blinked and sighed. “Yes, if this is what he is seeing, then it would account for his violent behavior. I’m surprised he drew. He never did when I asked him to.”

“He was with his nephew when he drew this. Would that make a difference?”

The doctor nodded. “Since he actually _did_ draw with his nephew, someone he views as safe, he might very well feel comfortable enough to open up…”

Bilbo sighed. “Do you still want me to…”

“Yes, if you’re comfortable with it.”

“I’m not, but I don’t think we have much of a choice,” he said. Bilbo stared at the drawing again. “I’ll start today, if that’s all right. Let me bring in some paper and crayons. If he’ll draw with me, maybe we can figure out what goes on in his head that way. I can bring back the drawings.”

“All right, but I still don’t like you being with him alone.”

Bilbo nodded. “I understand.” He left, feeling shaky. _This better work_ , he thought. _I need it to work._


	10. Chapter 10

Blotaz stopped him outside the door. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Bilbo shook his head. “No. Not really. But…”

“Someone’s got to. Better if it’s someone he trusts. I know.”

Bilbo nodded and opened the door. Thorin looked at them, startled. Bilbo smiled at him. “Hi, Thorin. How are you?” He didn’t answer, staring at Blotaz. Bilbo approached him. “Thorin, it’s okay. He isn’t going to hurt you. He’s a friend.”

“No, he’s not.” Thorin said. “None of them are.”

Blotaz shrugged. Bilbo clicked his tongue, thinking. “Okay, but he’s not leaving,” he said. “I brought some things with me. You like to draw, yeah? You were drawing with Kili earlier. So I brought some paper and crayons.” Bilbo showed him the stack of graph paper, clipboards, and the crayon box. “Perhaps you might like to draw with me?”

Thorin stared at the paper in Bilbo’s hands. He reached for a clipboard and a slip of paper. Bilbo handed a second clipboard to Blotaz and they passed the crayons around.

#

Before he left, he handed the drawings over to Dr. Gundebad. Several were of different orderlies and patients. How Sméagol looked so different from the others, he didn’t know, but one of the less frightening ones was a picture of Bilbo.

If Thorin didn’t scare him so much, he’d find the angelic image on the paper flattering. Maybe. He bade goodbye to Blotaz and headed home, pondering after Thorin’s family. Was she also susceptible to whatever it was Thorin had? Could her boys get it?

Would they one day see the world the way Thorin did, so frightened of every corner that they turn to violence just to try and survive? Would they see the yellow and black eyes Thorin saw? Would they see the brown and black and grey wrinkly skins? Would they see the jagged yellow teeth? Would they think that each time hands were held out to them in hopes of helping them, that they were looking and claws aiming to rip their skin off?

Would they cling onto the only good thing they see as Thorin had clung to him?

Bilbo entered his apartment and turned on his computer, deciding if he was going to help treat Thorin and help him overcome his sickness, he needed to know more.

He began with the most recent news: Dis’ taking over the company after Thorin fell ill. The day Thorin’s illness became public knowledge after he tried to kill his assistant, Smaug Azugâl. Before that, there were a few pictures of Thorin.

The Thorin he knew was different from the Thorin in the pictures. There was a shrewd glint in his eyes rather than unbridled rage, and he seemed pompous. A king of his own castle. Most featured him and Dis as a dynamic duo sort of team. Close, immoveable, powerful, and unrivaled.

What came after that was an article labeling Dis’ new marriage to Dwalin Durin a scandal of sorts. But she had been widowed for two years before. The only way Bilbo could see it as a scandal was that Dwalin was Erebor’s head of security. However, Thorin had approved of the match.

> _Dwalin is already a brother to me,_ Thorin had said. _This would just make it official._

Dwalin was also a former army buddy and it was revealed that Thorin and Dwalin were best friends since primary school. There was another article about Dis’ first marriage to a different army buddy of Thorin’s: Víli Urstarâg, who died overseas in Afghanistan.

Soon after that had happened, his father fell ill with the same mental disease that Thorin now suffered.

The next thing Bilbo found was an announcement that Thorin had returned from war and an obituary for Frerin Oakenshield, Thorin’s younger brother. He was twenty years old when he died in Iraq. Thorin had been admitted into therapy for PTSD. He was twenty-four, at that time.

Bilbo went further back, finding an article alerting people to another “scandal” when Thorin was forced to come out after some paparazzi caught him kissing a male classmate at a high school football match. He responded admirably:

> _Yes, I’m gay. No, I’m not going to pretend to be something I’m not. Who I date or fuck isn’t anyone’s concern but my own. I fail to see how whom I find myself attracted to defines the whole of who I am as a person. I’m not someone who can be so easily defined and stuffed into a box._

Thorin was seventeen at the time. His father tried to pass it off as a rebellious phase, but Bilbo found himself quite impressed by Thorin’s confidence at such a young age and it was the first time he’d been put in the spot light.

The next article was about how Thorin’s grandfather had been admitted into a private hospital because he came down with what was still being called “gold sickness.” He had been forced to retire before the company fell apart.

Bilbo went back to the article where Thorin had come out, searching for any other moment in Thorin’s life where he had love. He looked through the pictures. Either he was alone or with his family or with his assistants. There was no other article concerning Thorin’s love life. It seemed odd to Bilbo. Thorin was in his early forties now. He would have had other lovers.

Thorin had not been shy about it when he came out, all but giving the media the middle finger and telling them to fuck off. If his father tried to restrain him, Bilbo could see Thorin going ahead and flaunting each fling in retaliation to such attempts at controlling him. But he doesn’t. Something must have happened that didn’t get into the media.

 _Or was silenced_ , Bilbo thought, biting the back of his pen. It was possible and sad. The man Thorin used to be would have been a hero to Bilbo as a child had he heard of him before Thorin’s illness.

Another thing that struck Bilbo was how young Thorin was compared to his father and grandfather when his illness kicked in.

 _He might have been scared of it_ , Bilbo thought. A man like Thorin didn’t seem to be scared of much, but watching the men who shaped you succumb to it would have made you afraid of it. Your biggest fear: going mad. And then to have it actually happen earlier than expected…

“Schizoaffective Disorder and maybe OCD,” Bilbo mumbled, writing it down. He crossed out _OCD_ , shaking his head. Thorin might be obsessed with him, but his behavior didn’t really make Bilbo believe that it was OCD. He didn’t have an urge to control things. But he fixated on Bilbo.

He grabbed his text book, looking up Schizoaffective Disorder, jotting down notes.

> _Cause unknown. Symptoms differ person to person but mainly people will seek treatment for problems with mood, daily function, or abnormal thoughts. Some symptoms include:_
> 
>   * _False beliefs (delusions) such as:_
>     * _thinking someone is trying to harm you (paranoia), or_
>     * _thinking that special messages are hidden in common places (delusions of reference)_
>   * _Lack of concern with hygiene or grooming_
>   * _Mood that is either too good, or depressed or irritable_
>   * _Problems sleeping_
>   * _Problems with concentration_
>   * _Seeing or hearing things that are not there (hallucinations)_
>   * _Social isolation_
> 

> 
> _Medications—what is Thorin really taking? Why hasn’t it been working?_

Bilbo took his glasses off and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. _Why would he see me any differently than the others?_ He jolted when his phone rang. He answered. “Hello?”

“ _Bilbo_ ,” Gandalf said. “ _Have you seen Thorin again since we last talked_?”

“Yes, I’ve been back,” he said. “And I’m looking up some things about him right now. We think he has schizoaffective disorder of a strain of it, but it’s rare and easily treatable.”

“ _But_?”

“But wouldn’t he be getting better if he was taking his medicine? We give it to him in a shot, so it should work.”

“ _And yet it does not. What does that tell you_?”

Bilbo sighed, shaking his head. He paused, feeling his heart drop to his stomach. “Either we’re giving him the wrong medicine or he’s not getting medicine at all.”

“ _Can you get a sample of what he’s supposedly taking? I’ve a friend in the chemistry department who might be able to take a look at it for you_.”

“I can try. Gandalf, one other thing. When someone publically comes out as gay and tells the world to fuck themselves—which Thorin did—why wouldn’t anyone be interested in his love life after that? Wouldn’t they watch his every step? He’d flaunt it. He wasn’t ashamed of being gay, so…”

“ _That would be something to ask Thorin himself the next time you see him_ ,” Gandalf said.

“Who is Azog Gundebad?”

“ _That is also something to ask Thorin_.”

“I can’t exactly ask him these things when I’ve another orderly in the room, Gandalf!”

“ _Then ask him when you’re alone with him._ ”

“I’m never alone with him.”

“ _Then I suggest you change that_ ,” Gandalf said. “ _Goodnight, Bilbo._ ”

“Gandalf—” He heard the click of a receiver and dial tone. Bilbo hung up, staring at his notebook. “What am I going to do with all of this?”

#

Thorin stared at the crayons, trying to choose a color that would be suitable. He grabbed a dark blue. Bilbo peered over his shoulder, shuddering at the creatures coming out of the shadows to attack a huddled figure at the bottom. A figured he guessed was Thorin.

“You’re not alone, you know,” Bilbo said. “You don’t have to be alone. And no one is trying to hurt you. Not here.” He showed Thorin his paper. _What happened to your boyfriends?_

Thorin stared at the question. Bilbo swallowed. “Sometimes you don’t know who to trust, so you stop trusting.” He gave the paper back.

 _I can work with that,_ Bilbo thought. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But in that case, why do you trust me?” Thorin stopped drawing and looked at Bilbo. “What makes me different from anyone else?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I just know that you’re different. You’re my Arkenstone. You’re the one thing that is constant in my life right now that keeps the shadows away.”

Bilbo wrote another message on another sheet of paper. _Who is Azog Gundebad?_ Thorin stared at the question. He took the page from Bilbo’s hand. Thorin’s mouth pulled down into a frown and he crinkled the edges of the page. “Thorin?”

Thorin looked at him. “Stay away from him.”

“Stay away from whom?” Blotaz asked, looking up from his notebook.

Thorin stood and grabbed Bilbo’s shoulders, forcing him to stand. “Whatever it is you’re doing, don’t.”

“Thorin let go,” Bilbo ordered. Thorin dug his fingers into Bilbo’s arms. Blotaz went to call in more orderlies.

“ _Promise_ me you won’t keep digging—”

“I promise! I promise! Just let go!”

Thorin loosened his hold and kissed Bilbo’s forehead. “Thank you, my love. I can’t lose you too. Not after Frerin. Not after everything.” He let Bilbo go and sat back down. Bilbo collapsed in his chair, staring at Thorin, who started a new drawing.

Blotaz returned with Lurtz. “Are you okay?” Lurtz asked. Bilbo nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> info on schizoaffective disorder: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0001927/#adam_000930.disease.causes


	11. Chapter 11

Bilbo stared at the small glass bottle in his hand.

The liquid was clear and bubbled when he shook it. He sighed and leaned back, wondering why he agreed to steal some of Thorin’s medicine. He was so lucky more would be coming soon! No one would notice. He hoped.

Bilbo inhaled and exhaled, knocking on Professor Radagast’s door. It swung open, revealing a man wearing goggles and a white lab coat.

“Yes, yes, yes, may I help you?”

“Yes, hello. Gandalf sent me.”

“Oh? You’re the Boggins boy?”

“ _Baggins_ ,” Bilbo corrected. “And yes. Uh, here.” He handed Radagast the bottle.

“Amisulpride? Where did you get this? Did you steal it?”

“Oi, take it up with Gandalf.”

“Even so, you should know better,” Radagast said, stepping into the lab. “It better be something interesting, Mr. Boggins, or I’ll be having a word with Gandalf.”

“It’s _Baggins_ ,” Bilbo repeated. Radagast ignored him, heading toward his work station.

“Just stay there. I’ll have your results in a jiffy,” Radagast promised.

Bilbo leaned against a desk, wishing he had brought a book.

He stared around at the test tubes and various bubbling liquids. Radagast mumbled to himself as he worked. Something bumped against Bilbo’s leg and he stared down at the hedgehog scratching at his jeans.

_Okay…_

“Mr. Boggins, is the person you took this medicine from really schizophrenic?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because it’s sugar water.”

Bilbo jumped up and looked at the computer. “How do you know?”

“The molecular formula for the medicine your friend should be taking is this,” he pointed at an equation that read _C17 H27 N3 O4 S_ , “but what we have is _C6 H12 O6_. You also see that the diagrams are quite different as well.”

“Why would someone do this?” Bilbo asked. “Why would someone switch medicine with something that has no medical value?”

 “I don’t know,” Radagast said. “Whatever it is Gandalf has you doing, tread carefully.”

Bilbo agreed. He thanked Radagast and sent Gandalf a text about his discovery and inquired where to look next.  He only got a name as a reply:

 _Elrond Peredhel_.

He pocketed his phone and headed to work.

How was he going to stop the others from giving Thorin fake medicine?

How many _knew_ his medicine was a fake?

And why would someone want Thorin to be untreated?

Bilbo wished he had more answers that questions. He had to see Thorin. Alone. Bilbo greeted Shelur before entering the locker room and changing. His hands shook as he changed and he rubbed them together, taking deep breaths.

 He snuck past his coworkers and the other patients into D Wing and approached Thorin’s door.

Bilbo unlocked it and entered. Thorin lay on his side, facing away from the door, the blankets pulled up over his head. Bilbo’s stomach flipped. He shouldn’t be here alone.

He propped against the wall, clutching his stomach and breathing deeply.

“Go away.”

Bilbo opened his eyes, staring at Thorin’s huddled form.

“Please go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go—”

“Thorin,” Bilbo said.

Thorin jumped up, tangled in the sheets and looking around wildly.

Bilbo held his hands up. “Thorin, it is okay. There’s nothing here. It’s just me.”

Thorin flinched away. “You’re not here. You’re not real.”

“Thorin it really is me,” Bilbo said. He knelt down. “Thorin look at me. It’s okay.”

_No it bloody is not. This has got to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done._

Thorin shook his head, tearing at his hair and rocking back and forth.

Bilbo closed his eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. He straightened and sat next to Thorin. The next thing he could do might set Thorin off, and get Bilbo in a lot of trouble if it didn’t work…

Bilbo decided to take the risk anyway and embraced him. He sighed in relief when Thorin started to relax. “You’re not really here,” he whispered.

“Yes, Thorin, I am.”

“You never come alone.”

“I did this time. Thorin, I’m finding out things that frighten me so I came alone. I can’t stay long, but please tell me what you know about Dr. Gundebad.”

Thorin shook his head and started rocking again.

Bilbo hushed him, rubbing his back.

“It’ll be okay, Thorin. What Azog doesn’t know won’t get us in trouble. I promise nothing will happen. But I need to know. You know it don’t you? You know what’s you see isn’t real?”

Thorin nodded.

“And it still frightens you. It seems real, but Thorin, you know it’s not. Like your medicine. Thorin your medicine isn’t real either. That’s why…why you’ve been getting worse. I am so sorry, Thorin, I wouldn’t have given it to you if I knew.”

Thorin dug his fingers into his hair, whimpering. Bilbo pulled his hands away from his hair.

“It’ll be okay. I’m doing everything I can, but I need to know what you know. Who is Azog?” Thorin shook his head. “Please, Thorin? Please tell me.”

“No.”

“Later?”

“ _No_ ,” Thorin stressed. “He’ll kill you. He killed my brother, I can’t lose you too. No one believed me.”

“I believe you,” Bilbo said. “I believe you, Thorin.”

Thorin laid his head on Bilbo’s shoulder, releasing a raspy breath.

“Don’t leave. Please don’t leave,” he whispered, reaching for Bilbo’s hand. Bilbo flinched when their hands touched, but it was gentle and Thorin closed his eyes. “Don’t leave me here in the dark.”

Bilbo closed his eyes. He couldn’t stay much longer. Someone will come looking for him soon and if he was found here alone, he’d have to explain to Azog.

“I want to stay, but I can’t,” he said. “It won’t be for very long. I just…I have to work and then I’ll be back and we can draw some more.”

Thorin shook his head. “I need you.”

“I know. And I’m not leaving forever. I’ll be back soon. You know I’ll be back.”

Thorin hiccupped, squeezing Bilbo’s hand. He raised it to lips and kissed it. “I love you.”

Bilbo gulped. This was something he’d have to learn to accept, he supposed, even if he couldn’t return it. “I’ll be back soon,” Bilbo said, standing up.

Thorin kissed his hand one more time, tears clinging to his lashes, and let go. Bilbo fled D Wing.

“There you are,” Blotaz said. “Where were you? I was looking everywhere?”

“Sorry,” Bilbo said. “I locked myself in a supply closet because I wasn’t feeling well. I’m fine now.”

Blotaz arched a brow. “Okay. Are you sure you’re fine? You can go home if you feel sick.”

Bilbo shook his head. “Really, I’ll be fine. Besides, wouldn’t want to disappoint my biggest fan,” he said jokingly. Blotaz narrowed his eyes.

“You’re okay with Thorin now?”

“No, but it’s better to keep positive.”

Blotaz hummed, staring at Bilbo suspiciously. Finally, he shrugged and they went to work. Bilbo looked outside, watching the pour down.

 _I can do this,_ he thought, this time with a sense of surety.

#

“ _Elrond Peredhel speaking_ ,” a man greeted.

Bilbo swallowed, wetting his lips. “Hi, my name is Bilbo Baggins. I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to know about a former patient of yours.”

“ _Unless you’re with the government, I cannot give you any—_ ”

“Professor Gandalf directed me to you,” Bilbo said. “It’s about Thorin Oakenshield. He’s my patient at Moria Asylum.”

Silence. “ _Why is he at Moria?_ ”

“I don’t know,” Bilbo said. “But I don’t think he should be there.”

“ _No. He shouldn’t. I directed his sister to admit him to Rivendell Hospital._ ”

“In Italy?”

“ _It’s far, but it’s the best,_ ” Peredhel said. “ _What do you need to know?_ ”

Bilbo shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Whatever you can give me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amisulpride


	12. Chapter 12

When he was a child, Bilbo shied away from other children. It wasn’t that he didn’t like playing with them, he just had more fun when he played by himself and wouldn’t have to argue about who was the knight and who was the dragon.

He could be his own knight and his own dragon. He could save his own princess—until he realized he was more attracted to men than women and the game changed to saving a prince. Princes needed saving, too. Right?

But those were games.

He put the tape in the recorder and pressed play.

 _“How are you today, Thorin?”_ Elrond’s voice echoed. No response. _“Are you thinking about the bomb that killed your brother? It’s okay to be angry.”_

_“He wasn’t killed in a bombing.”_

_“What killed him?”_

_“You won’t believe me. No one believes me…It doesn’t matter, it will only get more people killed.”_

_“It’s okay to be afraid.”_

_“Good. Because I’m terrified.”_

_“Then let me help you overcome it. Why are you terrified?”_

_“My commanding officer—”_

The tape switched to static. Bilbo covered his ears and turned it off. He pulled it out and looked over it again. The other tapes had been fine.

Two raps on his door startled him and he stood.

Gandalf tipped his hat. “Good afternoon, Bilbo.”

“Come in,” Bilbo said with a sigh, stepping aside. “You’re going to anyway.”

“Why so dour?” Gandalf asked.

Bilbo closed the door and held up the tape. “Someone recorded over it and I think it was exactly what I needed to know,” Bilbo said. He sat on the couch and held his hand in his head. “Thorin’s been off and on with his mood swings.”

“But you can manage him?”

“So far I’ve not had much trouble since he kissed me. It’s driving me mad, Gandalf, I’m angry enough knowing someone is cruel enough to deny someone proper treatment, but Thorin won’t tell me anything about Azog. And I’ve everything that Elrond could give me. I don’t even know what I’m really looking for or whether any of this is useful.”

Gandalf hummed. “Pity it was a tape. Were it a CD, we might’ve been able to recover the file. What about his notes?”

“Still combing through them with a nit comb,” Bilbo said. “Taking notes when I can…Gandalf, there’s starting to be rumors at the asylum that Azog might give Thorin Electroconvulsive Therapy.”

“But you said yourself he isn’t even being _given_ medicine.”

“I can’t exactly go up to my boss and accuse him of switching amisulpride with sugar water,” Bilbo said.

“But you can tell Thorin’s sister.”

“ _How_?” Bilbo asked. “I only met Dis once. Why would she listen to me?”

“She wouldn’t,” Gandalf said. “But she will listen to me and if I vouch for whoever found the information, she would launch an investigation into what is really happening to her brother in Moria.”  

Bilbo massaged his forehead.

“Don’t despair. You’re doing well.”

“That would require getting somewhere.”

“You _are_ getting somewhere,” Gandalf assured him. “When do you see Thorin next?”

“Tomorrow,” Bilbo said. “I’ll try to put something cohesive together. But with this and work and school—I’m running on fumes.”

Gandalf headed to the kitchen.

“I just don’t know what to do with any of this,” Bilbo said, motioning toward the mess of papers on the desk. “Let alone what to do with it.”

“Hence your flustered state,” Gandalf said, handing him a cup of tea. “Drink that, and take a deep breath.”

Bilbo thanked him and leaned back, sipping the hot tea with a dash of honey. He did feel more relaxed now.

“You will figure it out,” Gandalf assured him. “In the meantime, tell me about Thorin’s affections for you. Are they dying down or getting more intense?”

“Sort of in the middle,” Bilbo said. “Drawing seems to calm him a bit…lets him get what’s in his head out and onto the paper. It’s frightening, what he draws. I don’t know how he manages it. His…violence, though, the pictures do explain it a bit. What he sees…”

“But when he’s not drawing?”

“His mood yo-yos quite a bit. There are days he’s calm, days he’s angry, and days where he’s a bit too…sexual for my liking.”

Gandalf coughed. “Dare I ask?”

Bilbo thought on it. He was pretty certain he did not want Gandalf to know that Thorin grabbed his ass on the way out of the room after getting a shot of sugar water. Bilbo was certain that couldn’t be healthy for him.

Then again, how bad was ten milliliters worth of sugar water really?

“Well, he’s mostly behaving,” Bilbo said. “Really could be worse. He’s not tried to rip my mouth off again, at least.”

“I think he’s learned his lesson,” Gandalf said.

Bilbo wasn’t so sure. Just because Bilbo knew the truth now—or most of it—didn’t mean Thorin wouldn’t try to assault Bilbo again. At least he had not gotten a late night call from Thorin again. Bilbo sipped the cooling tea, eyes closed.

 _I love you_ , Thorin often told him.

_My Arkenstone._

It was more disturbing than endearing, but the alarming aspect of Thorin’s confessions was that Bilbo’s fear of these words was starting to ebb. It was expected of Thorin now to tell Bilbo he loved him. Anticipated, though still inappropriate, for Thorin to kiss Bilbo or touch him.

“I think he’s waiting for me to give him some sort reciprocation,” Bilbo said. “So he pushes.”

Gandalf chuckled.

“It’s childish.”

“You sound almost fond,” Gandalf said.

Bilbo glared at him.

“Your grandmother would at least be glad to hear it.”  

“No one is telling her _anything_.”

Gandalf just smiled.

Bilbo set the half empty tea down. Christmas break was coming soon and he had yet to call and apologize to his grandparents for forgetting to buy a plane ticket in time. He meant to be back the night of, but then whatever conspiracy Gandalf alerted Bilbo to took over.

And now, he couldn’t imagine abandoning Thorin at this time. At least not until he knew that Thorin was in safe hands.

“I blame you, you know,” Bilbo said.

Gandalf arched a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t go home for Christmas. Not with all this,” he motioned at the mess. “I can’t leave him now. Not until I know he’s safe. And I still don’t know how I’m going to break that to my grandparents.”

“You could tell them the truth?”

“What? That I can’t come because I found out that one of my patients has been left to hang by the very people he’s supposed to trust and for some reason he decided to ask _me_ for help?”

“Yes,” Gandalf said. “You are already doing more than most psychiatrists dare to do for their patients. Most can only _hope_ that they helped someone onto the road of recovery from whatever it is that plagues them. You are making _sure_ of it. If or when you succeed, in a year or two or three, you might have Thorin watching you receive your PhD, healthy and whole again and free and you will know he is there because when he reached out for help— _real help_ —you answered.”

“He thinks he’s in love with me.”

“Are you saying that he is incapable of knowing what he feels?”

“All I know is that he’s scared and that he’s sick and that that he’s not being treated. I don’t even know how to begin helping him!”

“You already have begun,” Gandalf said. “So far, you are doing wonderfully. Sick or not, Thorin is fully aware of what he feels. Trust that even now, he knows himself better than anyone. Before he was ill, Thorin hid his emotions. He buried them deep down because it was easier for him to bury it then let himself feel. He felt too strongly. Now those filters are off and as you said, he is afraid. Now all you have to ask yourself is this: what is he afraid of? The nice thing is that you already know the answer.”

Bilbo blinked. “No, I don’t.”

“You’ve seen his drawings, have you not?”

“Yes.”

“Look at them harder.”

“Where am I supposed to look?”

Gandalf glared at Bilbo. “You know perfectly well how to do your job, Bilbo Baggins. You don’t need me to hold your hand any more than you need me to point you in the right direction. So take a deep breath, and _think_.”

Bilbo massaged his head. “I need a few hours…”

Gandalf patted his shoulder. “Then get some sleep.” He stood and grabbed his coat and hat. “Let me know when you’ve figured it out. Have a good night, Bilbo.”

He left. Bilbo stared at the door before deciding Gandalf might be right.

He really could use some decent sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Bilbo opened his eyes, staring at the snow drifting past his window. He sighed and covered his face with the blanket. He didn’t want to get up. Getting up would mean he would have to brave the cold. With a sigh, he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and headed to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. He stared at the papers littering the table and frowned.

 _Tea first,_ he decided, _then sort this out._ He hobbled over to the kettle and refilled it. He turned the burner on and selected a tea bag and mug. He turned back to the papers and sighed. He couldn’t do this with the blanket around his shoulder, no matter what he wanted, so he returned to the bedroom and changed into his grey sweat pants and a jumper.

He sorted the papers by date and with the according session tape. The kettle whistled and Bilbo fetched his tea, leaving the pot on the burner before grabbing a pack of different colored highlighters and pens There were four topics Elrond focused on with Thorin: family, the war, work, and his social life, Bilbo color coded each.

Time became irrelevant as Thorin’s story continued to unfold and now with much more clarity. Thorin had given up on having a social life when his last boyfriend left him for a woman. He buried himself in work, focusing on making Erebor Technologies as great as it could be with the help of his sister.

Dis had been the closest thing to a rock Thorin had since returning home after their brother had been killed in what was supposedly a car bombing. Bilbo was surprised how many times war and family interconnected. Usually in context with Frerin.

_What happened to Frerin?_

Bilbo paused in tapping a pen against the paper, narrowing his eyes at a random jot of notes.

 _Dracula?_ The page said. _Vlad and Radu. Fifteenth century. Ottoman Empire. Connection to Thorin and Frerin? Vague._

Bilbo stood and grabbed his computer and the tape recorder. He found the tape and played it.

 _“Dracula was a real person you know,”_ Thorin said.

_“Really? How do you know?”_

_“Interest, really. In some ways, I somewhat feel like I can relate to him.”_

_“How so?”_

_“I’m not sure. I mean, I’ve no interest in going around and killing people for the sake of it, like he did, but he lost his brother, too. In a very similar way. The difference is that I lost my brother physically while he lost him psychologically and emotionally.”_

Bilbo scanned an article about Dracula. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, so he read. He didn’t understand why—

 _“Sometimes things happen and you are just too powerless to stop it,”_ Thorin said. _“Despite needing the power to stop it anyway. We both failed our brothers.”_

_“You’re brother’s death was not your fault.”_

_“I should have done something about it anyway.”_

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose and got up to get more tea, making a mental note to ask Thorin about Dracula. His stomach lurched, angry from the neglect of food.

 _Gran would be appalled_ , he thought as he prepared some toast and eggs. It wasn’t much, but it’d satisfy him till lunch—

_Work!_

Bilbo almost darted to the shower with the frying pan in his hand. He stared at it.

 _First things first_ , he thought, putting it back on the burner and cracking an egg.

#

Bilbo approached D Wing, looking over his shoulder in case—

“Bilbo,” Azog called. Bilbo flinched, turning toward his boss. Azog frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

“Er…”

“I’d like you to help at a group session today.”

“But—”

“Or would you rather explain why you were trying to sneak into D Wing _alone_?”

Bilbo cringed. “Group session sounds great,” he said, following Azog to the dining room. The tables had been pushed aside and about twenty chairs were set up, filled with men and women alike. Bilbo stood next to Gorbag, watching the session progress calmly.

He tried not to fidget, picking at dead skin around his fingernails. Gorbag elbowed him in the ribs.

“Stop it,” he hissed. “You’re making me nervous.”

Bilbo sighed. “Sorry. I wasn’t exactly expecting to be here.”

A woman burst into tears and started to rip her hair out. Bilbo and Gorbag raced over to her, pinning her arms down. She screamed, beating her feet on the floor.

Azog took a needle out of his pocket and jabbed her arm. “Gorbag, take Anna back to her room,” Azog said. Gorbag lifted her into his arms and carried her out the door. Bilbo sighed, hoping there wouldn’t be any more incidents.

There weren’t and he nearly bounced on the balls of his feet in anticipation of getting to Thorin. He needed those answers. Azog clapped his shoulder.

“I’ll be sitting in on your session with Thorin,” he said. “Just to see how things are going.”

“O-oh,” Bilbo said. “All right.” _Fuck._

“I’ll meet you and Blotaz in D Wing. Half an hour.”

Bilbo nodded and waited for Azog to round the corner. Half an hour. That gave him maybe ten minutes to get an answer from Thorin—

“Bilbo!” Blotaz called.

Bilbo closed his eyes. Today was just not his day. How was he going to get answers from Thorin if his every move was watched? Bilbo turned to him.

“Yes?”

“Where were you?”

“Dr. Gundebad wanted me to help a group session. It just ended. I was thinking of going to see Thorin early. I mean, what’s a half hour difference really?”

“Sure,” Blotaz said. “I’ll meet you outside D Wing while you get the paper.” Bilbo nodded. Blotaz patted his back and Bilbo sighed when he disappeared down the corridor.

 _Definitely not in my favor_ , Bilbo thought, walking to the supply cabinet. He grabbed some paper and the door latched shut. Bilbo gasped and turned around, the papers falling from his hands. Thorin leaned against the door.

“I thought you’d come,” Thorin said.

“I meant to,” Bilbo said. “I was held up. Why are you out of your room?”

“Can’t you guess?” Thorin pinned Bilbo against the shelf. “You didn’t come, so I went looking. I thought that’d be obvious.” He nuzzled Bilbo’s neck. “I missed you, Bilbo.”

“You just needed to wait a little bit longer,” Bilbo said, trying (and regrettably failing) to push Thorin back. “Let me grab some stuff first and we’ll go back to your room.”

Thorin growled, grinding his hips against Bilbo’s.

Bilbo bit his lip, digging his nails into Thorin’s shoulders. Thorin groaned, tightening his grip on Bilbo’s waist.  Bilbo yanked on his hair, trying to pull him off.

 _No! No, no, no!_   He closed his eyes, reining in the tears that threatened to fall. Bilbo slapped Thorin’s shoulder. “Thorin get _off!_ ” Bilbo shouted. “If you keep this up I will _never_ come back! Do you understand me? _I will never come back!_ ”

Thorin stopped, letting the words dig in. “I left once, and I will leave again and this time no more second chances,” Bilbo hissed. Thorin flinched and hid his face in Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Please, don’t. I need you. I love you.”

Bilbo pushed him back. “That is not a good enough excuse to do what you just did and I think somewhere, you know that, Thorin Oakenshield. You know better and you have a _very long way_ to…all I want to do is help you get better and until then, this fantasy that I might love you back is just that: a dream. I don’t love you, Thorin. And you are not giving me good reason to view you differently.”

Thorin bowed his head. He knelt and picked up the paper. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, getting back to his feet. “Don’t leave me again. Please, Bilbo, don’t leave me alone.”

Bilbo closed his eyes. _Oh, he’s good. Bloody wanker. Why do I have to be so fucking forgiving?_ “Next time, I won’t give you another chance,” he said. “Don’t kiss me, don’t grab my butt, and don’t try to flirt with me.” Thorin cradled the paper to his chest, refusing to meet Bilbo’s eye. Bilbo sighed. “Come on, then. Let’s get you back to your room.”

He grabbed the crayons and clipboard. Thorin opened the door and followed Bilbo back to D Wing. Bilbo wasn’t sure if he was shaking from fear or anger, but he tried to keep it down. Blotaz stared at them, eyes wide.

“When did he get out?”

“I don’t know,” Bilbo said. “Can we just get him back?”

“Yeah,” Blotaz said. “He didn’t hurt you again, did he?”

He closed his eyes, wondering what would happen if he should tell Blotaz. “No,” he said. “He didn’t.” They entered the wing and led Thorin to his room. “That doesn’t mean I’m not cross with him at the moment.” He opened Thorin’s door, letting Thorin and Blotaz enter first.

Thorin sat on the bed, still holding the paper to his chest and acting like a kicked puppy. Bilbo sighed. _Damn it all_. He sat beside him.

“I’m sorry I was cross, but you understand that you cannot just go around and touch me like that. And I think you know that when someone tells you to stop, you stop and give them space.” Bilbo inhaled slowly and exhaled. “I’m not going anywhere, Thorin.” He held his hand out, palm faced upward. “I won’t leave.”

Thorin let the paper go and the pages fluttered to the floor. He grabbed Bilbo’s hand in both of his and wept, hiding his face in Bilbo’s lap.

“What exactly happened?” Blotaz asked, startled at Thorin’s outburst.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Bilbo assured him. “He’ll be all right.”

_I’m not going to get any answers today, am I?_

The door opened and Azog stepped in. He stared at Bilbo, who shrugged, trying to keep his calm. Azog pulled up a chair and Blotaz picked up the paper. Bilbo swallowed, stomach roiling.

He wasn’t sure who he feared more.

Thorin or Azog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOT! Gosh, today was awesome!! 8D 
> 
> So many chapters done!! Not had a day like this where all I do is write in such a long time! So relaxing and glorious…
> 
> *collapses in a heap*
> 
> If you’re just reading this story of mine out of the seven I'm working on right now, see you next week. *waves*


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of noncon/rape of an offscreen character. You have been warned.

The lock clicked open and Bilbo stepped into the office, a part of him regretted trading his day off to work a night shift. Still, he managed to get this far. He opened Azog’s file cabinet and searched for Thorin’s file. Once found, he laid it on the desk.

 _The answer is here_ , he told himself, spreading the papers on the table. _What do they all have in common?_ A lot. The evil looking creatures that were supposed to be his co-workers stared back at Bilbo from the pages. The ones of him were always brighter, happier, and in so many ways angelic.

In one, Thorin drew him with a glowing sword, striking down one of the creatures. He couldn’t understand why Thorin put so much hope in him, why he saw him as this… _knight._

A bump outside startled him. Bilbo took a breath and pulled out his phone, taking photos of the pictures Thorin had drew and of the notes Azog had made before putting the file back together and putting it back in the cabinet. He put his phone in his pocket and left, locking the door behind him again.

He smoothed out his scrubs and hair, trying to calm down despite how rapidly his heart beat. Someone walked by him and he paused, frowning. Bilbo approached the shadow and turned the lights on. Thorin winced, covering his eyes.

“For God’s sake,” Bilbo muttered. “Thorin, you need to stay in your room.”

“Why?” he asked, crossing his arms defiantly.

 _Of all the times to be a child_ , Bilbo muttered. _He might as well drop his trousers and shout “pudding” at this rate_. “Because you need your sleep. Come on, I’ll take you back to your room.” Thorin’s eye widened and he shook his head. Bilbo approached him. “Why do you not want to go back?”

“The screams.”

“From the others?”

“Among other things,” he admitted. Bilbo bit his lip, trying to think. He didn’t want Thorin to panic if Bilbo tried to force him. That’d be impossible. But if he offered to stay until Thorin fell asleep…

“How about this: I’ll go with you and I’ll stay until you fall asleep. We’ll play a game of Truth or Truth while we wait. Each of us will take a turn asking a question and no matter _what_ that question is, we have to answer truthfully. Okay? That sound like a plan?”

Thorin nodded and Bilbo smiled. He led Thorin back to D Wing, which was eerily quiet. While his skin developed gooseflesh and the hairs stood on end, Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to feel real fear. It was hard to when the most dangerous patient in this hallway was walking behind him like a scared kitten.

They entered Thorin’s room and Bilbo closed the door. “Okay, ready to play?”

Thorin nodded, sitting on the bed. Bilbo joined him. “Do you want to go first or shall I?” Bilbo asked, pulling his legs up. Thorin shrugged. “It can be any question you want to ask, you know. But we’ll start with easy questions first rather than things we don’t want to others to know.”

“If you don’t want others to know, why tell them?”

“Because that’s the game,” Bilbo said, smiling. He couldn’t let Thorin have an out, which means he couldn’t have one either. “We’ll just have to trust one another not to tell others.”

Thorin nodded. “What’s your favorite food?” he asked.

“I’ve several, but it’s been a while since I had my grandmother’s lasagna,” Bilbo said. “What was your favorite subject in school growing up?”

Thorin tugged on the hem of his pant legs. “Science. I liked blowing things up.”

Bilbo smiled. “A bit of a pyro. Okay. I get that.”

“I’m not a pyro,” Thorin said.

“All right, all right. My mistake,” Bilbo said. Thorin pressed his lips together in thought.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“No, I do not. Are you close to your sister?”

“Yes,” Thorin said. “Why did you come to Germany?”

“To complete my graduate degree in psychology,” Bilbo said. “Were you close to your brother?”

Thorin nodded. “Very close. He was never far until his death. How do your parents feel about you being in Germany for school?”

Bilbo swallowed. “My parents are dead,” he said. “They died in a vehicle collision when I was fifteen. I lived with my grandparents since. And as for them, my grandparents did say they prefer me closer to home, but I needed to get away from London’s spot light for a while. My grandfather’s a lord, you see, and has a seat in parliament. He’s got a lot of influence over the more liberal groups. They love him…anyway, why’d your brother die?”

Thorin grew silent, tense. He gripped his wrist and his knuckles grew white. “He…he was murdered.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was in the war, so it happens.”

“But it’s not ‘murder’ in war, Thorin—”

“Why did you choose to work here?” Thorin interrupted.

Bilbo leaned back on his hands. “Because it’s in my field of study and it’s close to both my home and the university,” he said. “What happened to Vlad’s brother Radu?”

“He died of syphilis. It is… _mostly_ believed that he was in a homosexual relationship with the sultan. How that relationship came to be, though…some believe Radu was raped as a child.” Bilbo’s blood ran cold.

_Sometimes things happen and you are just too powerless to stop it despite needing the power to stop it anyway. We both failed our brothers…_

“That’s terrible,” Bilbo said. Thorin’s hands shook. “Thorin?”

“I couldn’t stop it. I tried. But I couldn’t—”

Bilbo bit his lip and reached out, pulling Thorin into an embrace. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said. “Don’t ever think it was your fault.” Thorin hid his face in Bilbo’s shoulder, gasping for breath. Bilbo rubbed Thorin’s back, hoping it would calm him.

Eventually, Thorin’s tears dried and his breathing evened. But he didn’t let go of Bilbo.

“Thorin?”

No response. Bilbo eased Thorin off him.

“You said you’d wait till I fell asleep.”

Bilbo hummed. “So I did,” he said. “And I thought you had.” Thorin nuzzled his neck, pressing a kiss to the skin. “Thorin,” Bilbo warned.

“It was just a kiss,” Thorin protested.

“Which you didn’t ask for,” Bilbo snapped.

Thorin sighed. “You’d say no. You always say no.”

“For a good reason.”

“Is it?” Thorin challenged. “Is it really a good reason?”

Bilbo swallowed. “Yes. Thorin, even if I wasn’t your nurse, I wouldn’t be able to allow this. You’re sick, Thorin. You have schizophrenia.”

“That’s what I’ve been told. Even if it is true, does that make what I feel an illusion as well? Does it really mean that, if I ever get better, what I feel isn’t real?” Thorin pulled Bilbo onto his lap. Bilbo gasped and tried to pull away. Thorin grabbed his hands. “Look at me,” he said. “Bilbo, look at me.”

“I am—”

“No, you’re not.”

“Thorin, let go.”

“Not until you look at me,” he hissed.

Bilbo winced. He blinked at looked into Thorin’s eyes.

“Do I seem crazy to you?” Thorin asked. “When I tell you I love you, do I look like I don’t know what I’m saying? Or are you really able to judge how _I_ feel on your own? No one can tell me how I feel but _me_ , Bilbo. I _know_ what I feel for you is genuine. I know it is real.” His grip on Bilbo’s wrists slackened. “I also know that I scare you. I can see it in the way you refuse to look at me, the way you shy away from my touch. You try to pretend you’re not afraid, but you _are_ afraid. I suppose that’s my fault. I never meant to scare you. I never meant to hurt you and yet I did hurt you. It was never my intention. I just…I want you to feel the same and I am at a loss for what I should do to make you believe me.”

“Thorin—”

“Just once, I want to believe someone can love me back. Really love me.” He pressed one of Bilbo’s hands on his chest over his heart. “It’s been broken and scarred too many times. I believe you can mend it, Bilbo. It’s you. I know it’s you.”

Bilbo stared at his hand, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. “Thorin, if I were to give you what you want now, I’m afraid the only thing that will happen is that your heart will break again. But…how about we make a deal: if you get better, take your medicine and leave the hospital…if you manage to become someone who can live outside these walls and tell the difference between reality and fantasy again, then if we meet again, I can, I hope, mend your heart then.”

Thorin furrowed his brow and Bilbo bit his lip.

“In other words if you let me help you get better here,” Bilbo poked Thorin’s forehead. “Then maybe, when you’re not living in this room anymore, I can help you get better here,” he placed his hand over Thorin’s heart again. “Does that make sense?”

Thorin nodded. Bilbo pulled away, sliding off Thorin’s lap. Thorin seized his hands again. “Don’t leave—”

“I have to. The others are going to get worried soon. I’ll be back, Thorin.” He didn’t let go. Bilbo looked at the door.  He sighed and knelt down. “Thorin, repeat after me: nothing is going to hurt me. Nothing is after me. I’m safe. Can you say that for me?”

Thorin blinked. “Nothing is going to hurt me,” he said. “Nothing is after me. I’m…I’m safe.”

“Good. Good, now every time you feel scared, I want you to say that until you believe it.”

“Do you believe it?”

Bilbo smiled. “Yes. I believe it.” He stood. “I’ll be back later. Goodnight, Thorin.”

He closed the door behind him and walked out of the wing. Once the door to D Wing closed and Bilbo typed in the lock’s code, he headed to a storage room and locked himself in. He slid to the ground, covering his mouth and closing his eyes as tears he tried not to shed escaped down his cheeks.

 _No, I can’t…no…_ He shook his head and hid his face between his knees. _I can’t do this. I’m not a hero or an angel! Oh fuck, why did I make that promise? I can’t keep it! I don’t…I don’t even…I can’t go down that path…_

_I can’t fall in love with him…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’M SORRY!!! TT.TT It sort of…okay. The prompt I used has been chucked aside, so expect the story summary to change soon. And, even if Bilbo does start accepting that he might love Thorin, he’s certainly not going to act on it or let Thorin know. Thorin still scares him, just so you know, and that’s not going to change for a very long time. He won’t turn into Harley or anything like that (Harley’s just…creepy…*shudders*), but…yeah…I’M SORRY!!! *runs and hides*


	15. Chapter 15

He blamed his fluctuating feelings on fatigue. After all, falling in love with Thorin would only end disastrously for the both of them if he succeeded. That and Bilbo would be responsible for the jobs of several men and women…

That thought made him queasy…Or would Moria not be closed down? Hopefully they’d just replace Azog with another psychologist. True, that would change how the asylum was run, but the job of one was still a better outlook than the jobs of many.

“ _Bilbo, are you even listening to me?_ ”

He winced. “Sorry, Gran.”

She hummed. “ _Have you gotten your ticket home yet? Everyone is dying to see you._ ”

 _Oh, fuck_ , Bilbo thought. “Um, Gran, about Christmas…I’m so sorry but I’m needed at work.” He braced himself, waiting for the tirade sure to come…

And come it did and, sadly, the only way to appease her would be to come home and Bilbo simply couldn’t afford to do that. He continued to offer his apologies and agreed to call on Christmas and New Years. Still, it wasn’t good enough for his poor grandmother.

“I’m really, really sorry. I do want to come home, Gran, but I can’t.”

“ _They can survive two weeks without you!_ ”

Bilbo thought on that.

Thorin might tear up the asylum before he got back or Azog would move onto give Thorin ECT therapy. Anesthetized or not, that would be torture since Thorin wasn’t really being medicated.

“No,” he said. “No, Gran, they really can’t.”

“ _Gerry!_ ” Gran shouted. Bilbo winced.

 _Shit_ , he thought as the phone switched hands. “Hey, Grandpa,” he said.

“ _What’s this I hear about not coming home?_ ”

“Gandalf,” Bilbo said. And really he need not say more than that to his grandfather.

“ _I see. Can’t be helped?_ ”

“I’m afraid not.”

“ _What is he having you do?_ ”

“Um…” he looked over at the papers on his desk. “You know. Gandalf stuff. Conspiracies and what not.”

His grandfather scoffed. “ _Why does that not surprise me? I suppose it really can’t be helped then…you didn’t say the C word to your grandmother, did you?_ ”

“Conspiracy? No.”

“ _Good. Send me an e-mail of what you’re up to. When you’ve got something cohesive, that is. None of that mess I know Gandalf must have given you._ ”

“Okay,” Bilbo said weakly. “I’ll talk to you and Gran on Christmas.”

“ _All right, lad. Goodbye._ ”

Bilbo returned the farewell and hung up. That went better than he expected. He returned to the notes spread on the table and the print outs of Thorin’s drawings. Bilbo drummed his pen against the table, frowning. He took the pictures and moved to the sitting room, pushing the coffee table against the wall.

_What do these have in common?_

Bilbo sat on the ground, staring at the pictures. He picked up one of Thorin hiding…Bilbo set it back down and scrambled for all the pictures with Azog and put them in a pile. He did the same with the pictures of himself for another pile. All other pictures were different, only linked by the hideous creatures…He picked up two different drawings.

In one, the images wore scrubs. In another, they were in army uniforms. Both had Azog in the background, standing taller than the others. Bilbo grabbed the pictures of himself as well. Azog was less frequently seen in these drawings, but when he was, it was also depicting a battle.

 _Kind of like he’s screaming at me to save him_ , Bilbo thought. He scoffed. _No pressure._

He stood. “Okay, Baggins, what do we know?”

He dove for a notebook.

> _We know that Thorin is not getting his medicine. He should be on Amisulpride, but he’s getting shots of sugar water instead._
> 
> _We also know that what he knows revolves around Dr. Azog Gundebad who was previously Thorin’s commanding officer in the army and he is now the head psychologist at Moria Asylum where Thorin is admitted for schizoaffective disorder._
> 
> _Furthermore, we know something happened to Thorin’s brother, Frerin, and that thing may be linked to sexual assault and a faked car bombing._

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose. Apart from being in both places and having a connection to Thorin, why was Azog haunting him so much? How did Azog fit into Frerin’s story?

He tapped his pen against the paper and leaned back against the couch.

His phone rang. He pressed it to his ear. “Hello?”

“ _Stop looking or die!_ ”

They hung up. Bilbo lowered the phone, staring at it. He should’ve felt afraid. That would be the rational thing to feel. Instead, he felt angry. Bilbo went to his call history and pressed redial.

He was met with dial tone.

Bilbo huffed and called Gandalf.

“ _Hello_?”

“Gandalf, I was threatened,” Bilbo said. “Do the words, ‘stop looking or die’ mean anything to you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Gandalf said. “ _It means you’re on the right track. Someone considers you a threat._ ”

“Oh, wonderful,” Bilbo scoffed. “Considering I don’t know what the _right_ track _is_ , it feels so good to know I’m considered a threat.”

Gandalf chuckled. “ _I suppose I can see how such a message is not quite as…encouraging as you ought to take it._ ”

“And if someone actually tries to kill me?”

“ _We’ll cross that bridge when we get there._ ”

“Gandalf, if we leave it to that, I might actually _be_ dead by the time we _get_ to the bridge.”

“ _I don’t think Thorin would like that. For now, Bilbo, it’s all bark. Don’t worry until the dog starts biting._ ” He hung up and Bilbo glared at the phone.

“Thanks for nothing, you old fucker,” he snarled, slamming the phone onto the table. He hid his face in his hand and groaned.

_I need a drink._

#

 Christmas music blared on the speakers in the day room, a few patients sang along off key. Bilbo sat with Thorin while he waited for Dis and her sons to show up. Bilbo didn’t expect Thorin to be so good at chess, but they were reaching the end of the third game and Thorin already had two wins under his belt.

“You’re terrible at this, aren’t you?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo scowled. “I was the captain of the chess team in high school, thank you.”

“But that was nearly a decade ago.”

“ _Half_ a decade,” Bilbo corrected, affronted. “And you’ve no right to say anything. You’ve two decades since _you_ were in high school.” Thorin just grinned and made his next move. Bilbo stared at the board, deep in thought. He glanced up to see Thorin craning his neck and frowning.

“Thorin,” Bilbo said. Thorin turned to him. “They’ll be here. They’re just probably running late.” Thorin stared at the board. Bilbo made his move and waited for Thorin to act.

“Dis is never late,” Thorin said. “She’s always here at the time she says she’ll be here.”

“Even when there’s traffic?” Bilbo asked. “Christmas is two days away. Traffic is terrible outside, Thorin. Give her a little more time. She’ll be here.”

“She’s late.”

Bilbo winced, looking around. “It’s okay, Thorin. Your sister is coming—”

“Mrs. Durin, please be reasonable,” Azog snapped, following her into the day room. “It’s a completely safe procedure.”

“I made my decision,” Dis snapped, turning and poking Azog in the chest. “I am _not_ letting you electrocute my brother.”

“He is not responded to any treatment or medicine I have given him. He’ll never get better at this rate. Wouldn’t you rather Thorin be well enough to go home?”

“Not if it means torturing him to get him home—”

“ECT is a perfectly humane procedure—”

“With anesthesia, I heard you the first time. My answer is still _no_. Now are we done? Can I _please_ do what I came here to do and see my brother?”

Azog grit his teeth and waved her off, striding back to his office.

 _At least that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about,_ he thought as Thorin embraced her.

“You’re late.”

“I actually got here early. Dr. Gundebad wanted to have a word and it got a little long. Were you worried?” She patted his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Where are Fili and Kili?”

“With Dwalin,” she said, following him to a table. “Getting hot chocolate across the street. They’ll be here soon. The line was very long when I saw them go in. I half thought they’d see you before I did…”

Bilbo excused himself, allowing Thorin to have some time alone with his sister.

 _Stop looking or die_ still rang in his head like a death knell, less warning than threat. He didn’t know who figured out what Gandalf had charged Bilbo to do, but the message had only made him more determined.

Bilbo wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He didn’t want to die, but he couldn’t let Thorin remain untreated. Dis might not be ready to have Thorin given ECT, but she will wear down eventually. Azog looked like he’d get his way eventually. Bilbo half wondered what would happen if he brought his discovery to Azog.

Perhaps Azog was not who everyone said he was. Maybe everyone judged him, assumed the worst about him, but didn’t have any proof.

_Then why is Thorin scared of him?_

_He’s scared of his own shadow. He said everyone but his family and me were monsters._

Bilbo shook his head and entered the storage room to get some paper and crayons. _How about I don’t trust anyone until I know they can be trusted?_ He nodded. _Sounds like a plan._

He leaned returned to the day room. Kili sat on Thorin’s lap, talking animatedly to his uncle under the scrutiny of his father.

 _I’ll find out who is doing this to you,_ he thought. _I just need time._

Thorin turned to him and grinned. Bilbo approached, handing the boys the paper before being called away by Blotaz.


	16. Chapter 16

Bilbo massaged his neck, groaning at the crack. He leaned over the table, nearly bent reviewing article after article about Frerin Oakenshield.

In life, Frerin had been a party boy, showing up on the media’s radar at sixteen when he was caught at a college frat party. From there, things had been one scandal after another. Several girls had claimed to have been impregnated by him, but the claims dropped when Frerin had offered to take a paternity test. He and Thorin both joined the army in college and managed to be put in the same unit. Frerin had just begun to gain responsibility through his work in the army when he was killed in a bomb.

Except, Thorin told a very different story. It was possible that Thorin was telling himself a lie to keep from accepting the truth, but Bilbo wasn’t sure it was a lie. After all, who would trade the truth for a story about your brother being sexually assaulted before being killed?

He picked up his phone. “Gandalf?”

“ _Good morning, Bilbo. You sound groggy. Have you just got up?_ ”

“Been up all night, actually. Can you get me whatever reports Frerin Oakenshield might have made when in the army? Complaints, reports…you know. And, um, maybe the autopsy report?”

“ _Of course,_ ” he said. “ _I’ll be there in an hour with breakfast as well._ ”

“You can get that in an hour?”

Gandalf chuckled. “ _My dear Bilbo, there is very little I_ cannot _get in an hour. Do strudels sound nice?_ ”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “I’ll see you soon.”

He bade goodbye to Gandalf pressed his elbows into the table, massaging his eyes. Bilbo guessed he should get some sleep, but the threat still rang in his head.

He wanted to know who knew he was looking. The threat, admittedly, did make him feel a little bit paranoid, but otherwise, he didn’t let it bother him. Bilbo stood and checked to make sure his door was still locked before packing away his work and hiding it under his bed to go shower. He let the hot water beat down on his back, nearly scalding his skin.

All in all, Bilbo hadn’t any real clue what he was doing and he knew it. Why would someone threaten him when he was all but fumbling around in the dark, grabbing at scraps? Gandalf might say differently, but it didn’t make what Bilbo felt any better or any different.

He wasn’t a threat to anyone. He had just…stumbled onto something he probably shouldn’t have stumbled on. But now that it had his attention, he couldn’t in good conscious ignore it.

He wouldn’t ignore it.

By the time he stepped out of the shower and dressed, Gandalf arrived with a box of strudels and two cups of steaming hot tea.

“Where’s your work?”

“I put it away,” Bilbo said, “Figured a clear table would be appreciated.”

Gandalf set the items down. “I can see the logic in that,” he said. “Tell me, Bilbo, what have you found out?”

“About Frerin?” Bilbo sat down. “Only that he was a bit of a menace when he was younger, but grew out of it by his twenties when he and Thorin both joined the army. He and some others died in a bomb explosion. However, Thorin is convinced something else happened. He believes his brother was sexually assaulted and _then_ murdered. The bombing was probably staged, but that is inconclusive at this point. At least to me, it’s inconclusive.”

Gandalf handed him a large folder. “In there are the papers you wanted: autopsy, Frerin’s reports, and a rather large number of complaints.”

Bilbo thanked him and took the folder before grabbing an apple strudel. He moaned on the first bite. “My God, these are good!” He exclaimed.

“I’m glad you think so, I’ll write down the address for the café that sells them before I leave.”

“Please do, these are heavenly.” Bilbo set down the strudel and opened the folder. Wiping his hands on a napkin. “Okay! What do we have here?”

“Perhaps you should finish eating.”

“I will,” Bilbo said, picking up a faded sheet.

“ _Bilbo_ ,” Gandalf snapped. Bilbo turned to him. “It can wait. What has you in such a hurry?”

Bilbo set the paper down. “Nothing,” he said with a sniff. “Nothing at all. It’s just the sooner I get this done, the sooner Thorin can be properly medicated. I want to get all of this done so I can go back to concentrating on what I want to do. Which is not being dragged into conspiracies and unearthing the past and saving dangerous inmates from themselves and others! I just want to do my job and finish my graduate degree so I can go back to concentrating on what I want to do. Which is not being dragged into conspiracies and unearthing the past and saving dangerous inmates from themselves and others! I just want to do my job and finish my graduate degree! And I’m tired—”

“Finish eating and go to sleep. This isn’t going anywhere. Nor is Thorin. You won’t do him any favors if you run yourself ragged. Besides, have you forgotten? It’s Christmas! And I happen to have another ticket to the Festive Christmas Concert. The one at the Cuvilliés Theatre.”

“It’s Christmas?”

“Bilbo, go to sleep. I’ll be back at six with a suit rental for you and we can go to dinner nearby the theatre and after which go to the concert.”

“I—”

“I’m not taking no for an answer. This can wait. Now eat.” Gandalf took the folder and put it out of Bilbo’s reach.

“Remind me to call my grandparents before we leave.”

“I will,” Gandalf said. Bilbo picked the strudel up again. Though slightly cooler, it was still as delicious as it was when he took the first bite.

#

He knew he was supposed to be sleeping. And he did get some. And after taking another shower and dressing in clean sweats and an oversized t-shirt and cardigan, he called his grandparents to wish them a happy Christmas before grabbing the folder Gandalf left him.

He began with the autopsy, which matched with the articles about Frerin’s death that he had already found. There were a few reports mingled with conduct complaints. Several were accusing Azog of abusing his power and spreading homophobic rumors about an unnamed soldier who was out coupled with threats of rape. Then they stopped.

 _Was he silenced?_ Bilbo thought. He flipped through other reports, searching for more complaints. _He was_. Bilbo grabbed his notebook.

> _Frerin was silenced. He reported several times that Azog Gundebad had threatened and verbally assaulted an unnamed gay soldier in their unit, even threatened to rape him._
> 
> _Unnamed soldier=Thorin?_
> 
> _Quite possible. They were brothers. Talks with Thorin suggest they were close. If unnamed solider is Thorin, then he is justified in feeling unsafe, meds or no meds._
> 
> _How did Azog shut Frerin up? If he succeeded, then why did Frerin die?_
> 
> _Was bombing legit?_

Bilbo massaged his eyes. He needed answers, not more questions and he felt that as soon as one question was set aside, an abundant of other questions found their way. If this is what detective work was like, he was glad that he wasn’t going into police work.

It’s bloody exhausting. Bilbo grabbed his laptop, checking his e-mail.

One message was labeled:

  **URGENT**

Bilbo bit his lip. It had no address.

Dare he open it?

He dragged the mouse over the message and clicked it.

**GET OUT NOW**

Below it was a timer for fifteen minutes. Bilbo swore. He didn’t know where it came from, but he wasn’t going to take the risk that it wasn’t legitimate warning. He pulled on his coat, packed the files in his backpack with his flash drive and phone and raced down the stairs. He pulled the emergency alarm in a half second before fleeing the apartment and calling Gandalf.

“ _Bilbo_?”

“Gandalf, I got a message and it said to get out. I think it’s a bomb and I just ran—”

“ _Bilbo, slow down. Where are you now_?”

The explosion was deafening. Bilbo spun around staring at the black smoke and orange flames from his apartment.

“ _Bilbo? Bilbo what was that?_ ”

His legs shook beneath him and fresh snow fell from the sky. “My apartment exploded,” he said lamely.

“ _What?! Bilbo? Where are you? I’m coming to get you now. Don’t move!_ ”

Bilbo didn’t think that’d be a problem, but he also didn’t think he’d like to go to that concert Gandalf was talking about.

#

“What have you told him?” the Defiler asked. Thorin picked at a loose string on the hem of his clothes. “Thorin, how much does Bilbo know?” Thorin shrugged and hummed _Silent Night_ under his breath.

“He won’t speak unless Bilbo is here. It’s unlikely he’d tell anyone anyway. Isn’t that right?”

Thorin shrugged again, still humming and picking at the thread.

“It doesn’t matter,” the Other said. He knelt beside Thorin. “You love him, don’t you? You won’t tell him anything that would get him in trouble.” Thorin pretended not to hear. The Other scoffed. “He won’t say anything. And after tonight, Bilbo won’t dig further. He’d be a damned fool if he dared.”

Thorin looked up. “Why?”

The Other, a swirling mass of black and fire, turned to him. “You’ll find out soon enough.” He reached out to Thorin, who flinched. He scoffed again. “It’s a pity he didn’t die in the fire. I wonder who warned him. Anyway, keep Smaug and me updated.” He made for the door and paused. "Any luck with the bitch?”

“No. Dis is stubborn,” the Defiler said.

The Other chuckled. “Good luck with her, then. And goodnight. Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, General.” The Defiler stood. “All right, Thorin, go back to your room.”

“Where’s Bilbo?”

“You’ll see him soon enough.”

“My brother?”

“Is dead, Thorin. You know that.”

“Not dead. Frerin’s not dead. Can’t be dead. I see him at night. He sneaks in. He comes in. He’s different but it’s him. I know it’s him.”

He’s locked away. “Frerin’s not dead,” Thorin said. “It was staged. It was faked. He’s alive. I’ve seen him. He’s alive. He’s alive…”


	17. Chapter 17

“Here you are, Bilbo,” Gandalf said, opening a door. Within was an iron frame bed void of sheets. “I’ll set it up in a moment while you call your grandparents. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“They’ll want me to come home,” Bilbo said, sitting down on the bed.

“Of course they will,” Gandalf said. sitting beside him and patting his shoulder. “The problem is that going home _won’t_ stop whoever rigged your flat from going after you again. From here on, Bilbo, nowhere is safe. You can run, perhaps hide, but they will eventually find you. Just ask your grandfather. In the meantime, I will work on getting Frerin’s body exhumed.”

Bilbo nodded. “You do that.”

Gandalf left the room and Bilbo pulled out his phone to call his grandparents. As predicted, there were immediate demands that he return home as soon as possible, hang his degree. Bilbo desperately wished to agree. He wished it were that easy to drop everything and go home.

Except he had to think about Thorin. He needed him and Bilbo couldn’t abandon him just yet. Whoever blew his home up might’ve been the same person who threatened him to stop looking. But that added a new question to the growing list:

_Who saved me? Where did the e-mail come from?_

Could it have been Thorin? Bilbo shook his head. It wasn’t likely. If anything, it might’ve been from someone else—someone who _wanted_ him to find the truth. But who would that be? Bilbo shook his head. He wanted to stop. Was all this even worth it if he was going to be killed for his efforts?

Gandalf returned with fresh sheets and two large comforters. Bilbo thanked him and helped make the bed. It was the least he could do for intruding—a notion Gandalf quickly waved off.

“You narrowly escaped a _bombing_ ,” he said. “Rest up and take the time to relax. Don’t worry about finding a new place until after New Years. If necessary, we’ll find you a place on campus.”

Bilbo wrinkled his nose. He _hated_ dorm life when he was an undergrad. He’d rather avoid going back to living in a dorm if he could help it. They were loud and the students who lived in most of them were obnoxious wankers. Hardly took anything seriously and most of the time spent in a dorm room had cost him sleep.

He laid on the bed and stared at the window and again pondered at the identity of whoever warned him about the bomb. Bilbo sighed.

 _Happy Christmas,_ he thought, _whoever you are. I’m alive and I don’t know how to thank you._

#

Azog called Bilbo’s cell the next morning, expressing relief that he still lived and telling him that he had the following week off. He’d be expected back on the second of January. Bilbo thanked him and spent the rest of the day watching some American show. Something called _Supernatural_.

It went through him, numbing him as the hours passed by.

His phone lit up, alerting him to a call, and he answered.

“Hello?” he greeted tiredly.

“ _Bilbo, where are you right now?!_ ” Blotaz asked. He sounded panicked. Bilbo turned the television off and leaned forward.

“I’m staying at a friend’s right now. Why? What’s wrong?”

“ _Thorin escaped_ ,” Blotaz said. “ _It’s on the news right now. The doctor’s furious. We still don’t know how he managed to get the code for the front door_.”

Bilbo slumped his shoulders. _He got out?_ “Thank you for letting me know,” he said. “I’ll keep my eyes open for him.”

“ _Be careful._ ” He hung up.

Bilbo set the phone down, staring at it. He sighed. _I guess there’s no helping it. But where would he go?_ He stood and grabbed his coat, sending Gandalf a text about Thorin’s escape and that he’d gone to find him. He had an idea where Thorin might go…

 _Good_ , was the reply a minute later, _Be sure to be bring him to my house. It’ll be safer there than taking him back to Moria._

Bilbo waved for a taxi, and directed the driver to the apartment complex. It was blocked behind yellow tape. He stared at the building, still in shock that he survived this far. His hands curled into fists.

Who else could’ve been hurt by the explosion? Why would anyone go to such great lengths to hide the truth? What more lied beneath the surface?

A hand grabbed him. Bilbo gasped and looked at the owner of the hand. He sighed when he realized it was Thorin. He wasn’t in the patient scrubs. Somehow, he got his hands on jeans and a large winter coat.

“Thorin, where did you get these clothes?” Bilbo asked. Thorin shrugged, looking at the ground. Bilbo grabbed his wrist. “Look at me,” he demanded. Thorin lifted his eyes to his.

“Are you real?”

“Yes, I’m real. Come with me.”

“I won’t go back.”

“We aren’t going back,” Bilbo said. “Moria isn’t safe for you.” He pulled his phone out to call Gandalf. “We’re going to Gandalf’s.”

“Gandalf?” Thorin asked. “You know him? How?”

“Same way you do,” Bilbo said.

“ _Did you find him?_ ” Gandalf asked as a means of greeting.

“I have. We’re heading your way now.”

“ _Good. Keep him safe. I’ve taken the liberty to contacting a friend who can provide you and Thorin with megaphen tablets. They should arrive tonight. Bilbo, I don’t have to tell you to be careful._ ”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised, glancing at Thorin, who kept close behind him. “We’ll take a taxi back to your place.”

“ _Be careful. Munich is on high alert for Thorin._ ”

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Bilbo said. “Unless you want to come pick us up, which might be a little bit riskier.” Bilbo waved at a taxi.

“ _Perhaps. But be careful anyway._ ”

Bilbo climbed into the back seat, beckoning Thorin to follow. He gave the driver the address and was relieved when folk music started to play rather than the news.

#

“Here we are,” Bilbo said, leading Thorin into Gandalf’s house. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me why you decided to break out of Moria, will you?”

Thorin glanced around. “It’s bright.”

“Does that bother your eyes?”

“A little,” Thorin admitted. Bilbo led him to the kitchen and poured them both some water. “I’ve been in darkness for so long, I’ve forgotten what light looks like. If not for you, I’d have forgotten it entirely.” He picked up the glass. “I escaped because my brother came to visit me.”

Bilbo arched a brow. _Another delusion?_ “Are you certain it was your brother?”

“He didn’t look the same,” Thorin said. “But it was him. I don’t know how he could still be alive, but I _swear_ it was him!” Bilbo grabbed his shoulders, silencing Thorin’s protests.

“Thorin, if your brother is alive we’ll find him. Gandalf is exhuming his body right now. We can know for sure. Would that make you happy if we find out that your brother is alive?”

“I _know_ he is—I know I’m not…” Thorin swallowed. “Not the most credible witness. I know I’m sick most of the time, but it all _feels_ real…But I _know_ I saw my brother the night before last.”

Bilbo hushed him. “I believe you,” he said. “Now drink your water and I’ll start dinner while you take a shower. Finish your water and I’ll show you where the bathroom is. Okay?” Thorin bowed his head, sighing.

“What happened to you? Something’s wrong with you. You’re not…you’re acting different.”

Bilbo knew that was true, but he didn’t know what to tell Thorin. What would Thorin do if Bilbo told him? He forced himself to smile. “What would you like to eat? We’ve got chicken and there’s linguini…”

Thorin touched his lips and Bilbo silenced, a spike of fear rushing down his spine. “I’ve given you my trust. Is it really so hard to trust me in return?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Bilbo clenched his teeth together till his jaw ached. He pushed Thorin’s hand away. “I just can’t. I’ll help you, but I don’t trust you, Thorin.” Thorin bowed his head, pressing the crown of it to Bilbo’s chest. Bilbo could feel the tension radiate off him. Thorin fisted Bilbo’s shirt.

“What do I have to do?” Thorin asked. “I’ll get better. I’ll take whatever medicines I need. I know I’m sick. I know I’ve frightened you, but I…Bilbo, I…I feel sane again when I’m with you. You’ve helped me enough. Let me help you too…my Arkenstone…Bilbo…”

Bilbo pried Thorin off him. “I tried to let you help and you wouldn’t,” he sneered. Thorin winced. “You were too afraid—”

“Azog is—”

“The one who raped your brother, I _know_.” Thorin stilled, his eyes wide. Bilbo crossed his arms. “You as much as told me, but _why_ was never mentioned! It would’ve been rather nice to know that Azog harassed you when you were in the army! It would’ve been very nice to know why someone called me and threatened my life! Only to actually _try to take it_ yesterday!”

“I was trying to protect you from him,” Thorin whispered. “Azog hasn’t harassed me since I came to Moria. Not the way he used to.”

“Why is he not medicating you? Do you know that?”

“I don’t.”

“Why doesn’t your sister know?”

“Because if she were to find out, Smaug, Azog, and the Other will kill her.”

“The Other?”

“I don’t know who he is…he’s just…fire and shadow when I see him. Unlike others who are just…just…”

“Like in the drawings?” Bilbo asked, crossing his arms. Thorin nodded. “What do you think they are?”

“Orcs. Goblins. Demons. Does it matter what they’re called?”

“Does it matter to you?” Bilbo snapped. Thorin didn’t answer. “Thorin, the best way you can help is by telling me what you know!”

Thorin held his head in his hands. “I can’t.”

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. It was just one question after another and his patience was drying. Before him was a man who could tell him everything he needed to know and yet Thorin, even in this tentative freedom, was too afraid to tell Bilbo anything.

“If I tell you anything, they’ll kill you.”

“They already tried to kill me,” Bilbo snapped. “So that’s not a good excuse.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want answers!”

“What is going on here?”

Bilbo turned to Gandalf. He huffed and stormed out of the kitchen. Safe in the guest room, Bilbo slid to the ground and wept.

 _It’s too much_ , he thought. _All of it is too much._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chlorpromazine#History 
> 
> http://www.thementalelf.net/publication-types/systematic-review/which-anti-psychotic-medication-is-the-best/


	18. Chapter 18

“Here,” Bilbo said, setting down a glass of water and a pill tablet in a paper cup in front of Thorin. Thorin picked up the paper cup, tilting it back until the pill rested on his tongue and picked up the water. “Open your mouth,” Bilbo said, pinching Thorin’s chin. Thorin opened his mouth and lifted the tongue. Bilbo let go. “If spit it back up, I will make your life unpleasant.”

Thorin snorted. “Now what?”

“Well, you should start having a slightly better grip on reality,” Bilbo said. “The drug you’re now on is a low-potency antipsychotic called Chlorpromazine. It reduces D2 dopamine and can effectively affect D3 and D5—and you’ve no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Not a clue.”                                           

“The worst you should have to deal with is feeling a little more tired than normal, a bit of weight gain, a dry mouth—but water’s always available, so don’t worry about that—and constipation.” Thorin glared at him. Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Relax, you’ll get the food you need to prevent that. Those are just the most common and only if things go wrong.”

“Will they?”

“If they do, I’m here and so is Gandalf.” Bilbo set a plate of toast in front of Thorin. “Most of the time,” he added.

He switched to online classes, but there was no way for him to get out of working at Moria without drawing some suspicion. Which wouldn’t be good…Thorin needed twenty-four hour supervision. There simply wasn’t anyone Bilbo knew he could trust other than Gandalf. He’d have to talk to him about that. Bilbo wasn’t going to quit his only job just because he was hiding an escaped psych ward patient.

“I don’t know if this would be good news or bad,” Gandalf said. “But the man buried in Frerin Oakenshield’s grave is not Frerin.”

Thorin grinned. “I told you he was alive.”

“We cannot say that definitively yet,” Gandalf said. “It has been a very long time since your brother’s been seen. The man who visited you might be him or it might not. But we will find out what really happened. All I can say for sure at this moment, other than what that report says, is that your sister is a very unhappy lady. Between the exhumation, you running away, and this new information concerning Frerin, she’s…angry and distraught.” Bilbo hadn’t thought how Dis would react to having Frerin exhumed, but he guessed “angry and distraught” would be a natural reaction.

“So what does that mean for me?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo looked at Gandalf. “We’re still grasping straws,” he said. “There are just so many unanswered questions, Thorin. Such as what it is that made Azog refuse to medicate you, what really happened to Frerin, why you attacked Smaug. Honestly, I have a whole list. There are so many gaps, it’s ridiculous.”

Thorin munched on toast, refusing to meet Bilbo’s gaze. Bilbo turned to Gandalf and glared, hoping to convey nonverbally, _you see what I have to deal with?_ Gandalf patted Bilbo’s shoulder. “What if we talked to a detective about this?” he asked. “A legitimate detective. I happen to know a good one.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t want him to do this because…”

“You were already there and you did wonderfully,” Gandalf said. Bilbo groaned.

“He made you play detective too?” Thorin asked. “He had me gather evidence that my grandfather needed to get professional help.”

“That sounds a lot less dangerous than what I’m doing.”

“It can be very trying when you’re a teenager and the worst you want to deal with is zits, dating, and homework,” Thorin said. Bilbo nodded.

“That I understand and can accept. I would never have been able to do that then.”

“Yes you could,” Gandalf said.

“Not against my family!” Bilbo snapped. “And certainly not against my boss. Anyway! Now what do we do?” Gandalf pulled out his phone.

“I will call Bard and you enjoy your break. Make plans for New Years,” he said, pressing the phone to his ear and walking away. “Bard might come by to see what you have. In the meantime, there’s a deck of cards and some other games. I advise against television until Thorin’s a little more stable.” Gandalf smiled at them, ignoring a rude gesture directed at him by Thorin. “Have a good day, gentlemen.” He put his grey fedora on and left.

When the door closed, Bilbo looked at him. “Yeah, we’re watching TV,” he said. “But nothing violent or scary, okay?” Thorin nodded grinning.

#

Watching Thorin change from (mostly?) criminally insane to silent and broody was not something Bilbo expected to see as soon as he did. Thorin took his pills twice daily without complaint or rebellion, afterward would eat a light breakfast and escape to Gandalf’s home gym. (Bilbo wondered if Gandalf ever really used it.) Once that was done, he’d shower and dress. Bilbo had offered to buy him a razor to shave his beard, but Thorin rejected it, running his hand over the stubbly growth.

“I think I’d like to grow a beard,” he confessed. Bilbo wasn’t so sure. “Do you know when that detective will be back?” Bard had come the afternoon Thorin began his medicine two weeks ago. Bilbo handed him what he had found and both had promised to call if anything new cropped up.

“No,” Bilbo answered.

Thorin only hummed and picked up a novel from Gandalf’s bookshelf before collapsing on the couch and began to read. When Thorin started to act calmer, Bilbo felt he could breathe again. He would take the time to talk to Thorin a little bit, get how he’s feeling, how the medicine was working, if he wanted to talk about the past—which was always when Thorin’s eyes would darken like a storm and he’d silence.

Bilbo had called Elrond about it, learning that this behavior was normal for Thorin before he was sent to Moria. He couldn’t tell Elrond that Thorin was with him, of course, and had guised the question as simple curiosity.

“Thorin?”

“Hm?”

“How are you feel—”

“Fine,” Thorin said, turning a page. Bilbo frowned, fighting down the incensed anger building in his head. He took a breath and counted backwards from ten. At least when Thorin wasn’t taking medicine he’d talk to him, even look forward to seeing him. This was almost a complete transformation.

“You know if you want to talk…”

“Then you’d know,” Thorin snapped.

“I’m trying to help—”

“You don’t have your graduate degree yet,” Thorin reminded him. “So, in reality, there’s very little you can do.”

Bilbo ground his teeth together. “So after everything I’ve done to help you, you’re suddenly _not_ grateful for it? You don’t want my help? I found out you weren’t be treated properly. Have you any idea how freaked out you were there? How—”

“I am well aware of my own state of mind,” Thorin said, closing the book. He turned to Bilbo, eyes cold and mouth turned into a frown. “I know what was haunting me at Moria and I know how I dealt with it and the embarrassment _alone_ is enough. I’d rather not discuss it, thank you.”

“Embarrassment?” Bilbo repeated. His anger ebbed slightly. “Thorin, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Based on your drawings, your violence was a very rational action. You were trapped in a room seeing monsters that weren’t really there and you did the only thing that would make sense. It doesn’t make it okay, but at least it’s understood.”

Thorin laughed. “That’s not what’s embarrassing.” He stood and held the book in his hand. “Let me know when lunch is ready.” He fled the room.

Bilbo sighed and drummed his fingers against the table. Would Thorin tell him if he kept pestering him? He’d talk to Elrond again, but too many calls to him would make him suspicious as to whether Bilbo knew Thorin’s whereabouts or not. His phone lit up and he stared at it for a moment, debating whether he _really_ wanted to answer it right now. He decided to check the caller ID first. It read “BARD.”

He answered.“Hello?”

“ _Hey, Mr. Baggins_ ,” Bard asked. “ _How’s everything going with Thorin_?”

“He’s…aloof, I guess.”

“ _Back to his old self then. Or mostly_.”

“I guess so, but he’s somewhat…”

“ _Cold_?”

“Yes.”

“ _That’s expected_ ,” Bard replied. “ _Anyway, what you’ve given me has led to some pretty nasty places. Specifically to Mordor Inc._ ”

“Mordor?” Bilbo asked, confused.

“ _It’s a subsidiary of the Melkor Corporation_ ,” Bard explained. “ _Anyway, will Thorin be willing to talk to me about what happened to him and his brother in the army? I can come down this evening when you'r off work._ ”

“He won’t talk to me anymore. What makes you think he’ll talk to you?”

“ _If he wants Azog and Smaug put away before Erebor Technologies is bought by the Melkor Corp, then he needs to tell me what he knows._ ”

“I’ll go ask.”

“ _I’m not asking_.”

“No need for him to know that,” Bilbo hissed approaching Thorin’s door and rapping his knuckles on the door. He tried to knob. Bastard locked his door. Bilbo was beginning to think he liked Thorin better when he was crazy. “Thorin? Bard is coming here tonight. He wants to talk to you.”

“About?” Thorin asked though the wood.

“He said he found a link between Azog and the Melkor Corporation.”

The door unlocked and Thorin yanked the phone away from Bilbo. “What did you find?” he demanded. “No, I want you to tell me now! What do you mean you’ll tell my _sister_? You’re not telling her shit, you asshole! I know she’s the current CEO, that doesn’t mean it’s not my business! Fine! Fine, we’ll talk when you get here. But Bilbo has to sit in. Good.” He hung up and handed the phone to Bilbo. “What a jackass.”

“You could’ve just asked for my phone rather than yank it out of my hands,” Bilbo snapped. “How old are you? Two? Jeez.”

“It was an emergency?”

“How? They’re not going anywhere, we’re not going anywhere. I don’t see the problem.”

“The Melkor Corporation will _destroy_ my family, all right? This isn’t their first try and the sooner we get all of this out of the way, the better. Now if you excuse me, I have to talk to a detective about my past which I’m not exactly ready for even though I’m not emotionally or mentally ready for despite the fact that it could save my family and my company—”

“Then why did you agree?”

“What choice do I have?!”

“Every choice.” Bilbo said, grabbing Thorin’s wrists to stop his arms from flailing. “Thorin, you shouldn’t talk about something you’re not ready to talk about. And I’m sorry for trying to make you.”

“I’m never going to be ready to talk about it,” Thorin said. “So why not?” He closed the door and Bilbo leaned against it.

“You’re not alone, you know,” Bilbo said. “And you don’t need to keep that mask on all the time. I’ll let you know when lunch is ready.”

He went back to the kitchen. Bilbo pressed his hands against the counter, staring at the granite. He banged his fist against it.

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure how fast Thorin would change in behavior once he’s on antipsychotics…if anyone’s got any idea how fast he would change. I’m ashamed to say that I’m basing my knowledge here on an episode of “Psych” where Shawn and Gus sneak into a psych ward to solve a case and prove a man's innocence.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO THOSE WHO READ THE LAST CHAPTER: I've changed when Thorin responds to the medicine to about a week, week and a half and the events of that chapter are now 2 weeks in the future. This chapter is primarily that afternoon and evening.

“Has Thorin found you yet?” Azog asked, cornering Bilbo. Bilbo almost dropped the packaged needles and peered up at his _much taller_ boss. He shook his head.

“If I see him I’d have called you, Doctor.”

Azog narrowed his eyes at Bilbo, who blinked. Bilbo wanted to run away and hide from him if he could. Pity he couldn’t. Azog strode away. Blotaz scratched his cheek. “Any idea why he’s bugging you about Thorin more than the others?”

“Other than that Thorin’s obsessed with me and might be looking for me? I’ve no clue,” he said, setting the needles down.

“We’re going drinking tonight if you want to come.”

“Sorry, I can’t,” he said. “School’s beating down on my ass.”

“Harder classes?” Blotaz asked.

Bilbo nodded. It wasn’t really a lie. He was taking harder classes. And on top of that and his paid job, he had to make sure Thorin took his medicine and kept busy (a task that thankfully became less stressful as soon as the medicine kicked in). He followed Blotaz into D Wing.

“You know, it’s almost peaceful here now that Thorin’s not around. Hopefully he’s somewhere slightly better equipped to handle him than we are,” Blotaz said. Save for a hum of affirmation, Bilbo didn’t respond. He glanced at his watch.

“You got a date tonight or something.”

“Something like that.”

“Relax, you’ll get off at six like every night,” Blotaz assured him, patting Bilbo’s shoulder before they gave out the meds. It made Bilbo wonder: how much of the medicine given to other patients was fake too?

#

Bilbo winced at the slammed door when he walked in. That was not intended.

“Try not to break my door, Bilbo,” Gandalf called.

“Sorry,” Bilbo said, entering the kitchen. Bard sat at the table with Gandalf and Thorin was still reading the same novel as this morning.

“Did he say anything?”

“He is right here and we were waiting for you,” Thorin said. Bilbo sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, swearing under his breath.

“Thorin, stop flirting,” Gandalf chastised.

“You call that flirting?” Bilbo snapped.

“That was not flirting,” Thorin agreed.

“That was a right arse being an arse!”

“I resent that.”

“Then don’t act like one!”

“Can’t this wait until _after_ the honeymoon?” Gandalf asked. Bilbo and Thorin glared at him.

Bard cleared his throat. “Can we get started now?” He asked. Thorin nodded, marking his place in the book and setting it on the table.

“What do you want to know?”

“How about you start with your time in the army,” he said. Thorin inhaled slowly and exhaled in one fell swoop. He adjusted his position and stared at his hands.

“My brother and I entered the army because everyone in our family had at one point or other been in the army. It wasn’t debated or thrust on us, just expected. Our father and grandfather often had friends who were still in the army as well even after they retired to join Erebor Tech. Frerin and I never minded the idea of joining the army. Nor were we given glorified ideas of what it would be like. We enrolled, went in for training, and for a while it was fine. Then we were sent to Afghanistan and put under the command of Azog Gundebad.

“Azog gave us both hell because we were ‘a couple of rich kids who couldn’t tie our own shoes if we wanted.’ At first, it was the usual hard-ass crap we were fed. Then he found out I was gay and from there, he harassed me. Threatened to rape me, groped…He said he’d stop if I agreed to sleep with him. He also threatened the others under his command not to report it. The only one who reported it was Frerin and since he was the only one stepping forward, nothing was done, despite how many times he went.

“Then it did stop, he just stopped. About two or three weeks after, I found out why. Frerin agreed to sleep with him if he would leave me alone and Azog agreed. Frerin told me it was for the best and if it got him to leave me alone, it was worth it. But it was getting more violent between them. Each time I told Frerin to break it off and that I’d be all right, he just waved me off. 

Then the day he…the day I _thought_ he died happened. I attacked Azog, blamed him for my brother’s death and I was sent home under the pretense of having PTSD. Attacking him was never reported to headquarters. I came home with who we thought was Frerin in a box and we buried him.

“Azog found me at the funeral and told me if I told my sister, he’d hurt her. As for the PTSD diagnosis, that was actually true. From there, I kept seeing my brother getting blown up again and again and each time I tried to have a relationship with someone, I’d have flashbacks to Azog…”

Thorin leaned forward and hid his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. Bilbo brought him a glass of water and a box of Kleenex. “We can stop if you want,” he assured Thorin. “You don’t have to say any more tonight.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “I went to therapy after coming home because I didn’t want to lay this crap on the rest of my family. I started getting better and then my father got sick. We hired a professional nurse to take care of him at home while Dis and I took over the company. Everything was great. I rarely had an attack anymore and we were working alongside companies that made airplanes, designing new switchboards. And then Dis and I hired Smaug Azugâl. I was suspicious of him. I didn’t like the way he looked…but I had no evidence and he was skilled, so we let him on the team and after that, I started seeing things that I _knew_ were not real. I _knew_ they were not there.

“It was getting worse, so I decided to call Elrond before I succumbed to the schizophrenia strain that plagued my family. Smaug followed me and stopped my call. The official story floating around is that he was going to steal my company from me, that’s a lie. He actually said he knew about Frerin’s ‘relationship’ with Azog, that he had found the evidence that Frerin reported Azog, and that the army could face a subpoena for not taking action. I thought he was going to help me. Instead he threatened me. He said if I dared to take action against Azog and the army, my sister would pay the price. I was going to let him hurt my sister, so I attacked him. I told him I’d kill him. I was nearly ready to kill him when I was pulled off and sent in for a mental assessment.

“They convinced my sister that I was too dangerous to be out in the world and that it’d be better for me to go to a hospital that was trained in handling violent cases. They suggested Moria, Elrond suggested Rivendell. My sister chose Moria because she still didn’t know about my history with Azog. But there, I got worse and worse because I didn’t trust anything they would give me. Azog at that time had already married and had a kid, so he wasn’t _doing_ anything to me, thank god, but…it doesn’t make it better. They didn’t give me medicine because they thought if I was then I might tell Dis about Azog and Frerin. I wasn’t going to, it was too big of a risk for me. I didn’t want to lose whatever family I had left. But I wish they did. The worse I got, the less I was able to convince myself none of it was real.”

Bard turned off the tape recorder. “Thank you, Thorin,” he said. “And I’m sorry.” He stood and Gandalf showed him to the door.

“That doesn’t explain how I knew you were different,” he said, looking at Bilbo.

“Thorin—”

“Let me finish,” he said. “And maybe you’ll forgive me after you know. When I saw you, you were wrapped in light. You were gorgeous and I was stunned. When I realized you were real, I was happy because what is real is attainable, right? I ended up doing to you what had happened to me and I don’t think I can honestly forgive myself for putting you through that. I never should’ve touched you in the first place.”

Bilbo pressed is hand to Thorin’s cheek, silencing him. “Thorin, I won’t say I wasn’t scared because I was, but I wasn’t angry either. Look at me: I’m _not_ upset with you. Okay? I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago. You don’t have to atone and you certainly should stop that _I’m not worthy_ schtick. It’s annoying. The two of us are going to make this right with Gandalf and Bard’s help, of course. But I can’t really help if you push me away. So at least talk to me again. Okay?”

Thorin took Bilbo’s hand in his, pulling it away from his face. “Okay.”

Bilbo smiled and stood, pulling his hand out of Thorin’s grasp. “We’ll order pizza for dinner. How’s that?”

“Sure,” Thorin said. Bilbo paid the downtrodden tone no heed. It had been a rough day. He could forgive Thorin for going back to monosyllabic responses tonight.

#

Gandalf and Thorin both insisted that Bilbo act as normally as possible. Which meant going drinking with Blotaz and Lurtz again. Bilbo didn’t mind it. He could use a drink after the constant glowering he felt directed at him by Azog.

Bolg joined them, complaining about how his dad had been on edge since Thorin’s escape. That Dis might sue them for losing her brother was just adding to that and Bilbo almost felt bad for Azog. He did feel bad for Bolg, though. It wasn’t his fault.

“How are you and Nori getting along?” Bolg asked, smirking.

Bilbo nudged him in the side. “We’re just sex buddies. Neither of us are all that interested in a relationship with the other.”

Bolg winced. “Ori’s not going to like that.”

“Why? Do you like Ori?” Bilbo asked, smirking.

“I’m not gay!” Bolg snapped. “Ori’s just a friend.”

“Sure he is,” Bilbo teased.

“Fuck you, Bilbo!” Bolg snapped. The others laughed, poking fun at Bolg’s bright red cheeks which he insisted were from drinking. A man nudged Bilbo’s shoulder, and motioned for him to come. Bilbo excused himself, leaving his share of the pay and left.

“Bilbo Baggins?”

Bilbo approached him. The man was tall, his nose was small and his mouth thin, his blue eyes were somewhat slanted and his brown hair fell to his shoulders. “Yes.”

The man leaned forward until his lips barely touched Bilbo’s ear. “I’m Frerin Oakenshield. Where is my brother? Do you know where he is?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *grins* 
> 
> Hey, what'd'ya know? Frerin's alive. :D
> 
> Starting next week, My Love's a Noble Madness will be updating on Wednesdays.


	20. Chapter 20

_The man leaned forward until his lips barely touched Bilbo’s ear. “I’m Frerin Oakensheild. Where is my brother? Do you know where he is?”_

Bilbo stepped back. “Stay away from me.”

“Wait, Bilbo—” Bilbo backed away from Frerin. “Bilbo, I really am him!”

“How am I supposed to know that?”

The man held his hands up. “Just hear me out. Look, I have proof. All right? I’ve got it with me, okay? It’s in my wallet. Can I?”

Bilbo’s heart raced, pumping blood through him at an alarming rate. He nodded and Frerin reached for his back pocket. He showed Bilbo the wallet, then opened it, pulling out a couple slips of paper. He handed them to Bilbo.

The first picture was a security photo from Moria of the man sneaking out of the building. He was looking right at the camera, as though he knew he’d need proof that he was there. But it didn’t prove it was who he said he was.

The next was a photograph was an army photo of Thorin and three other men. On Thorin’s left was his current brother-in-law, Dwalin and on the far right was Víli. Between Thorin and Víli was a man who easily could’ve been Thorin’s twin. He had the same hair and eyes and nose as Thorin. He was a little shorter and the angles of his face were softer, but it was clearly Frerin Oakenshield.

Bilbo looked at the man. His hair was blond, but he had the same eye color. Bilbo could believe that Frerin would’ve changed his appearance if it meant successfully faking his death. He could imagine him dying his hair to stave off suspicion.

“I won’t deny you were at Moria recently,” Bilbo said, “But neither of these pictures really proves you're really Frerin.” He handed them back.

“Do you know where Thorin is?”

“I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”

Frerin ran his hand through his hair. “Your flat exploded a couple weeks ago. Someone told you to get out of there as soon as you could.” Bilbo nodded. Not many knew that save Gandalf and Thorin. He didn’t even tell Bard. “I’m the one who sent that e-mail.”

“Well thanks for that, but it still doesn’t prove you’re who you say you are. All it does is prove I can _probably_ trust you. Look, there is literally _no one_ I can trust anymore except Gandalf.”

“Then I’ll talk to Gandalf,” Frerin said. “Can you allow that? If he vouches for me, will you let me see Thorin?”

“I never said I know where he is.”

“But if you did?”

Bilbo sighed. “If Gandalf vouches for you, then yes, if I knew where Thorin was, I’d let you see him.” Better to give him the impression that he doesn’t know where Thorin is than hint that he’s harboring him.

“Then I’ll talk to Gandalf,” Frerin said. Bilbo bit his lip, staring at Frerin for a moment. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and dialed Gandalf’s number.

“ _Hello_?”

“Gandalf, it’s me. There’s someone here claiming to be Frerin. I’m looking at him right now.”

“ _Put him on_ ,” Gandalf demanded curtly. Bilbo handed the phone to Frerin.

“Gandalf? Yes, I’ll do anything. I just want to be with my family again. Yes. Yes, I’ll be there. Okay.” He handed Bilbo the phone.

“ _I need you to come back home now. Frerin will be meeting me at midnight somewhere disclosed and you need to stay with Thorin until I return._ ”

“So long as it’s before my shift tomorrow—”

“ _It won’t take that long_ ,” Gandalf promised.

“Okay. I’m going now.”

“ _Be careful, Bilbo_.”

“I will be.” Gandalf hung up and Bilbo put his phone away. He gave the pictures back to Frerin. “To be honest, I kind of hope you are who you say you are,” he assured him.

“But you can’t trust anyone these days, I understand. I know the feeling.”

#

“I’m home,” Bilbo called. Gandalf strode by him.

“Keep him safe,” he said, entering a security code into the keypad by the door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. If I’m not back by noon, there is an envelope for a friend. They’ll keep you and Thorin safe. Do not dally, do not wait. Open it, call the number, and tell them your name.”

“Who are they?”

Gandalf didn’t answer, grabbing his grey fedora and stepped out the door. Bilbo locked it and sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. _Is it so hard to get a straight answer out of him?_

“What’s that about?” Thorin asked. Bilbo looked at him. Thorin leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

“Something…unexpected came up,” Bilbo said. He didn’t want to tell Thorin anything yet. “Gandalf’s just investigating it.”

“It has to do with me, though,” Thorin said. “I’m not a child, Bilbo.”

“Can you please just wait until it is okay to tell you anything?!” Bilbo shouted. Thorin’s eyebrows rose and Bilbo deflated. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted.”

“You’re stressed,” Thorin said. “I’d have been throwing things at the wall by now if our places were reversed.”

Bilbo scoffed. “I just wanted a job to have while also going to school,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d get roped into a conspiracy or that one of my patients would get a crush on me or fall in love with me or…”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to get Gold-Madness so young. Everyone else in my family got it when they were older. I don’t know why it happened to me when it did.”

“Gold-Madness?”

“It was the name we used to call the strain of schizophrenia my family has. We fixated on anything that shone, which is why so many of my forefathers focused on the Arkenstone. And somehow, I focused on you and ended up hurting you.”

“I told you I’m not mad about that,” he said.

“It doesn’t excuse it. And as you said, none of this should have happened. A lot of things have happened that never should have,” Thorin said. “I never should’ve gotten sick, but I couldn’t control that. Now I have to take pills daily just to be stable…but it’s better than _not_ being stable.”

Bilbo sighed. “I don’t know what to do most days. I’m just…winging everything when it comes to you. I have to lie to my boss to keep him from thinking I know where you are. I think he knows I know anyway. I’m pretending to be okay but I’m really not. I’m terrified. Someone’s tried to kill me, my boss is a rapist, there’s something about this Melkor Corporation which I know nothing about except that I should fear it because everyone seems to be scared of it.”

Through his rant, Thorin approached and now embraced him. Bilbo tensed, but Thorin just hugged him. He smelled like a forest after rain and spring water: calm and cool and sweet, like a mid-spring day. It was relaxing. “You aren’t going through this alone,” Thorin said. “I pray to whatever god that’ll listen that you never have to.”

Bilbo blinked, face pressed into Thorin’s shirt. His face felt warm as blush lit his cheeks. He gently pushed Thorin away and stared at Thorin’s fuzzy chin. “I, uh, I’m going to eat something and do some homework, so if you need anything I’ll…”

“I know where to find you,” Thorin said.

Bilbo nodded and strode past him into the kitchen. He warmed up left over pizza in the microwave before fleeing to his room and laptop. He sighed, hiding his face in his hands.

 _Damn it_ , he thought.

#

Gandalf arrived with Frerin early that morning. He gently shook Bilbo awake, asking him to fetch Thorin and for the both of them to freshen up before going to the kitchen. Bilbo wanted to ask why, but Gandalf left before the question could pass through Bilbo’s lips. Bilbo lied in bed a little longer before heading to Thorin’s room to tell him Gandalf had returned and wanted them downstairs ASAP.

Thorin had flipped him off before Bilbo went to take a shower. Bilbo was downstairs first and Frerin st at the kitchen counter with a mug of coffee in his hands.

“So you really are him?” Bilbo asked.

“He is,” Gandalf said before Frerin could answer, “Though most days he goes by Hans now. Where is Thorin?”

“Here,” Thorin said, entering the kitchen. He paused, staring at Frerin. Frerin stood. “So it really happened. You did come.”

“I did,” Frerin said. Thorin strode over to him and Frerin looked terrified. “Thorin, I’m sorry—” he was pulled into a strong hug. Thorin’s shoulders shook. Bilbo glanced at Gandalf, who motioned to the hallway, and they left the brothers alone.

“Now what?” Bilbo asked. “Do we get Bard? Or Dis?”

“It might be time to let Dis know, but I doubt she’ll want to talk to me. She’s still trying to find out what happened to one brother while looking for the other.”

“But this would make it better for her, at least, right?”

“That depends on whether she decides to listen to me and whether she decides to come.”

Bilbo frowned. “You don’t think she will?”

“Dis can be convinced, I think, but she’s still dealing with everything that is happening,” Gandalf said. “Too much too soon could shock her—she’s a tough woman, but everyone has a limit and she is reaching hers. Thank God for her husband.”

Bilbo stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Is there a way to maybe mess with her schedule? Get her to meet with them without us having to talk to her?”

Gandalf hummed, the corners of his mouth turned upward into a smile. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, you and the Oakenshield brothers need to be ready to move.”

“Move?”

“Well, if you want to do this, you have to do it in a way that will limit detection.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“In that case,” Gandalf grinned. “Give me a few hours. Do your homework or something.” He pulled his phone out and Bilbo glared at him.

_Who does he think he is? My dad?_


	21. Chapter 21

Bilbo had to wonder, of all the things he had done so far since getting involved in the conspiracy which was the most illegal? Would impersonating a PA for a “client” to Erebor Tech count? He couldn’t say, but he was pretty sure impersonation of any kind was illegal. He kept in step with Frerin and Thorin, who moved as fast as they dared to not cause suspicion or be recognized, though a friend of Gandalf’s should be messing with the security system at the moment (or so Bilbo hoped). Once safely in the conference room, the brothers relaxed.

Thorin sat down. “Doesn’t seem like much has changed,” he said, running a hand over the table.

“Dis has taken a few new clients since your incarceration,” Frerin said. “Apart from airplane switchboards and hospital equipment, she’s expanded into everyday technology. Erebor should be coming out with a new brand of smart phones soon.”

“I know. I’ve been catching up,” Thorin said. “She did want to expand into everyday technology…”

“Didn’t you?” Bilbo asked.

“I was thinking it over at the time,” Thorin said. “But I did think it’d be a good idea. Erebor strives to lead, not follow. Besides, I was talking about the building. Except for some new carpets and flooring, it doesn’t seem much has changed. It was time to get rid of the linoleum flooring anyway.”

“You should’ve gotten rid of it the moment Dad retired,” Frerin sighed.

“We were a little busy picking the company up, Frerin.”

The door opened and Dis stepped inside. She wore a smart grey dress and blazer. “You’re the gentlemen from Hobbiton Inc?” she asked in accented English.

 _Hobbiton Inc?_ Bilbo thought. _Oh, Gandalf…_

The door closed behind her and Thorin stood. “Actually, there is no Hobbiton Inc, Dis.” She dropped her portfolio, eyes widening. Frerin lowered his glasses.

“Hey, baby sis.”

“You…both of you…”

Bilbo went to the windows and dropped the blinds. They turned to him. “Sorry, I figured a little privacy wouldn’t go remiss.”

“You’re the nurse from Moria!” Dis shouted. “You had Thorin? You had them both?!”

Thorin grabbed her shoulders and helped her to a seat. “Bilbo did hide me, but I left Moria on my own.” Frerin sat across from them.

“Be careful with what you say,” Bilbo said. “I can’t guarantee we’re safe here.”

“Have you more work to do today?” Frerin asked.

Dis waved it off. “I doubt I’ll be able to do anything for a while, no thanks to you two,” she snapped. “Dwalin and Smaug can handle the rest of them for the day. Oh, God, what do I tell Dwalin?!” She was pale and Thorin brought the tissues closer to her before he and Frerin explained why Frerin faked his death and why Thorin ran away from Moria.

Toward the end, the powerful front she carried shattered and she clung to Thorin, weeping. She took a moment to call her secretary, saying that she wasn’t feeling well and to reschedule the meetings she had scheduled and to let her husband know that she wasn’t feeling well.

She sighed, setting the phone down before turning to Bilbo. “You knew?”

“Not right away,” he said. “And I am sorry about all this—”

She held her hand up. “I don’t blame you. I’m glad you found all this out and that you tried to do something about it. If you hadn’t, I’d still have lost both my brothers and probably would never have gotten them back. So thank you. But I still don’t understand why they’d do all this?”

“The Melkor Corporation,” Frerin said. Dis’ face seemed pinched.

“They’re behind this?”

“Not all of it, but Smaug works for them. We still aren’t sure what they’re after—”

“The Arkenstone,” Dis said. “Smaug had been wondering if the stone could be used for technology.”

“You said no, right?” Thorin asked.

“I said I’d think about it, but that was ages ago. I’ve not agreed to test it yet. We use crystals in technology already and I thought it was a scientific interest of his. But it is a family heirloom and it didn’t sit well with me using it like that.”

Thorin massaged his head. “Fuck all this. They knew I’d say no, I was going nuts already, they figured they’d get me out of the way to get you and make you say yes.”

Bilbo blinked. “What did I miss?”

“Melkor Corp, likely, wants to make the Arkenstone into some sort of weapon, but Erebor doesn’t make weapons. Airplane switchboards for commercial flights, hospital equipment, phones, computers, televisions, radios…that’s what we deal with. It took ages to get out of weaponry.”

“Which is what we were doing when our grandfather was leading Erebor,” Frerin said. “Which was around the early to mid-nineteen hundreds.”

“The world wars?” Bilbo asked.

“We’re not proud of it,” Dis said. “But yes.”

“Well,” Bilbo said weakly, feeling his knees buckle beneath him. Bilbo leaned against the wall. “Shit.”

“Eloquent, isn’t he?” Dis said.

“But sums up the situation perfectly,” Frerin added.

Thorin stood and approached, steadying Bilbo a little more. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

“I _feel_ like I’m about to faint,” Bilbo agreed and Thorin pulled him to a chair. “Some caretaker I am.”

“I don’t mind,” Thorin assured him, squeezing his hand. Bilbo’s heart jumped to his throat and he felt his cheeks tinge. He refused to meet Thorin’s eyes and gnashed his teeth.

_No! Bad Bilbo! Very bad Bilbo!_

“We’ll handle Melkor Corp,” Dis said. “Bilbo, all you need to worry about is Thorin’s health.” She stood. “I trust you’ll take care of my brothers.”

“What are you going to do?” Frerin asked.

“Moria did not treat Thorin as I had hoped,” she said. “I’m not going to let Dr. Gundebad get away with that! I’m going to sue his ass.”

Frerin whistled. “When did our baby sister get so scary?”

“Oh, she’s always been scary,” Thorin said, smirking at Frerin. He still held Bilbo’s hand. “You just weren’t around to see it. I used to just sic her on our competitors when they tried to steal our technology. I didn’t have to do anything but watch from the corner and laugh.”

Frerin threw his head back and laughed. Dis rolled her eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Thorin stood and helped Bilbo up.

“Do you need to leave?”

“It’s best if we get back to Gandalf’s,” Frerin said. “But we’ll definitely need to see each other again, Dis. And soon.”

“You still need to meet your nephews.”

“I heard about that. Isn’t the younger one Dwalin’s boy?”

“Yes.”

“See, I don’t get what Víli and Dwalin saw in you. You were always mean.”

“They managed to put up with her,” Thorin said, “And I figured better a close friend than some random suitor, right?”

Frerin shrugged. “I suppose so,” he said, standing. Thorin released Bilbo’s hand to embrace Dis once more before they left.

“Azog doesn’t know what just hit him, does he?” Bilbo asked.

“No,” the brothers said.

#

Bilbo sat on his bed, phone pressed to his ear and hoping Nori would pick up. He didn’t. They’d not talked in ages. Bilbo didn't mind that (they weren’t dating, nor ever promised to). Bilbo didn’t know why, but he needed someone to take his mind off Thorin and Nori was the first one who came to mind.

If he concentrated, he could still feel the warmth from Thorin’s hand…Maybe smell the aftershave or whatever it was Thorin used…

Such things scared him before. They should still scare him. Thorin was still Thorin, medicated or not.

He hung up and set his phone down before gripping his hair in his hands and whimpered. Bilbo curled into a ball, tense and angry.

_I can’t fall in love with him. I don’t want to fall in love with him. I can’t…please not now. It’s the worst time ever. It’d be madness._

He heard the door open, and he gasped, sitting up. Thorin stood in the doorway. “You’ve been quiet since we left the company,” he said. “Are you all right?”

Bilbo nodded and bit his lip.

Thorin had always seemed beautiful, but it’d been marred by his madness. Thorin leaned against the door. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Bilbo nodded again, digging his fingers into the sheets.

Thorin narrowed his eyes. “You know I know you’re lying.”

Bilbo hugged his legs. “Please don’t…” he whispered.

“Don’t what?” Thorin asked. Bilbo winced and stared at his feet. He more felt than watched Thorin approach the bed. He sat beside Bilbo. “Don’t what, Bilbo?”

Bilbo gasped, scooting away from him. Thorin grabbed his arm, halting him. “Thorin, I’d really rather not talk about it.”

“In general or just to me?” Thorin asked.

“Have you taken—”

“Yes, I’ve taken my meds,” Thorin said. “If you don’t believe me, ask Frerin.”

“Let go of me,” Bilbo ordered.

Thorin blinked and stared at his hand still grasping Bilbo’s bicep. He released him. “I know you don’t trust me,” Thorin said. “I don’t blame you. The more my head cleared, the more I thought my obsession with you would die. I know that’s not comforting, but I thought…I thought something changed between us, Bilbo. Am I wrong?”

Bilbo forced himself to meet Thorin’s eyes and focused his breathing, willing the blush that rose to stay down and begging his heart to not race. “You’re wrong,” Bilbo lied, keeping his voice as calm as he could. “Nothing’s changed at all.”

Bilbo clenched his teeth together as he watched whatever hope Thorin might built up die.

“I see.” He stood. “Sorry to have bothered you.” Thorin left, closing the door behind him. Bilbo pulled his knees to his chin and hid his face between them as tears he’d fought back spilled over.

_Why now? Why am I falling in love with him now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For crying out loud! Why?! WHY?!!! Why is the story shifting direction again?! Doesn't my brain understand that each time a new story arc comes up I have to change the plot map AGAIN?! 
> 
> Will from this day forward be updating on Tuesdays...just until the new Monday story I'm is done...


	22. Chapter 22

“I’m still looking into Moria,” Bard promised them, meeting Dis’ hard gaze. “Beyond what you’ve told me, and the possible connection with the Melkor Corporation, there’s not much.”

“But it’s building?” She asked. “The case?”

“Yes,” Bard said. “I assure you it’s going well. All in all, there is no logical motive behind Azog’s decision to deny Thorin medicine.”

“Is that not enough?” Frerin asked.

“Oh, it’s enough, but if you want to ruin him more than make him lose money—not that getting sued won’t hurt—you might want to wait until we can gather more proof that he did, in fact, sexually harass Thorin and Frerin. I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I really do, but…”

“Harassment and rape cases are difficult to prove,” Thorin said. “And Frerin’s the only one who wasn’t scared of Azog enough to report it.”

“What of Moria itself? Is it not part of the Khazad Group anymore?” Dis asked.

“I’ll look into it. And into Smaug,” Bard promised. He stood, glancing at his watch before stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. “Well, I’ll see you in a couple days to give you another update.”

Once he left, the siblings gathered to talk. What about, Bilbo didn’t know nor pried into. Even if his curiosity burned, he didn’t want to interrupt them. Once the short conversation between them had finished, Dis approached Bilbo.

“May I speak with you?” she asked. “Privately?”

Bilbo glanced at his laptop. Well it’s not like he had anything that couldn’t wait a couple minutes. He wasn’t taking a test or anything. “Sure.”

He stood and followed her outside. Dis took out a wand of sorts. It was blue save for at the base which was metal and the black lip piece. There looked like a liquid within it. She raised it to her lips and inhaled. She caught him watching and Bilbo looked away, blushing.

“I used to smoke a lot,” she said, “Back in high school and college. I quit both times I was pregnant, but I seem to always come back to it. My husband suggested these. Not sure if he was more worried about my health or my breath. Could be worried about the boys’ health too, but I never smoke around them.”

“I don’t smoke, so I’ve not really paid attention to it. My grandfather smokes pipe weed, though. My grandmother hates it…”

Dis hummed. “This is an e vapor pen,” she said, “A type of e-cigarette. It works well enough. Anyway, Bilbo, I would like you to consider quitting your job at Moria and come work for my family as Thorin’s private caretaker.”

Bilbo blinked, unsure he heard her right. “What?”

Dis exhaled and a plume of sweet smelling smoke formed in the cold air. She looked at him. “Given your involvement with us, is it safe to say you’re in danger?”

“Well…yes. Someone blew up my apartment before I came to live with Gandalf here. Work is really the only place I really go to now…my classes are online because someone has to—”

“Be with Thorin?” she asked. “This would work better, wouldn’t it? You could still go to school, get paid, and be Thorin.”

“I’m not doing this for money.”

“I’m aware,” Dis assured him. “I’d pay you more than you’re making at Moria. How much are you getting paid there anyway?”

“Um…we’ve already established the new minimal wage, and so…”

“Eight and a half euros an hour?”

“My grandfather pays for nearly everything else. He pays my tuition and rent…He also gave me a small allowance—”

“Who is your grandfather, if I may ask?”

“Gerontius Took?”

“General Gerontius Took?” Dis asked, brows rising.

“Yes. His daughter was my mother.”

“Our grandfathers met years ago. Ha! Thror _hated_ him. Our grandfather was always a traditionalist and the general was very controversial at the time. I had stayed hidden with Thorin. I was about nine years old and he would’ve been sixteen. Neither of us was great at mingling. Social situations like that drained us both rather quickly. Plus, many of the people there were adults. Frerin just soaked up the attention there, though. He loved it, little flirt that he was then. But I met a woman there who opened up to both of us. She engaged Thorin and I pretty well. Maybe you know her? I think her name was…Bella or Donna or something like that.”

Dis took another drag from her pen.

“Maybe Belladonna?” Bilbo asked. “That was probably my mother.”

“I suppose it could be,” Dis said, offering him a smile. “You kind of look like her.” Bilbo blushed, scuffing his shoes over the desk. Fresh snow began to fall. Bilbo bit his lip. He hated winter.

“Bilbo, will you at least consider my offer?”

“I’ll consider it,” Bilbo promised. “But I don’t think it’d be smart to accept at the moment. Rather, I think it’d just come off as suspicious if I just quit after all this time. There’s no legitimate and known reason for me to quit. If Thorin was still there, then yeah, it’d make sense to Azog and the others.”

“He gave you that much of a hard time?”

“He was amorous and scarily so. If I were to quit now, Azog would probably figure something was up. But that’s my initial thought on it. I’ll think about it some more though. If I do, I’ll need a convincing reason for leaving.”

Dis hummed. “You already do,” she said. “Someone heard of your skills and is offering a better pay. Besides, it’s less work too. You can concentrate on your studies more. Thorin seems quite well.”

“He is,” Bilbo said. “All I really would need to do is make sure he takes his medicine. Not that I doubt he needs someone to make him take it…he…”

_Was so scared…rabid…expressed a desire never to be there again…_

Bilbo swallowed.

“He’s better?”

“He’ll be on pills for the rest of his life,” Bilbo admitted, “but for the most part, the sooner it’s safe for him to, the sooner he can return to a normal life. But otherwise, he could return now.”

“What would you suggest?”

“Well, he’s already on medications,” Bilbo said. “And he’s, I guess, back to how he used to be before?”

“Yes, mostly. He sometimes spaces out and gets a little jumpy, but otherwise yes.”

“He will also need to be as knowledgeable about his condition and be in frequent contact with his…well, I guess Azog would’ve been his doctor—”

“When it’s safe, I was thinking of having him see Elrond again,” Dis said. “His previous therapist. Thorin would open up better to someone he’s familiar with.”

“That’s good.”

“And you, if you were to accept.”

Bilbo nodded. “He’ll also need a good support system, know which lifestyle choices are best for him…but most of all, he’s at the point where he can make his own decisions again. I won’t be calling shots anymore soon enough. He will be. And having a stable home is also important. Here is good, but as it is now, the situation isn’t ideal.”

“Because of Melkor,” Dis said. “I see.” She took another drag. “You see, you know what he needs best and you understand what his condition requires.”

“Wouldn’t you and Frerin know too?” Bilbo asked. “I mean, it’s a hereditary strain, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Dis said. “But there’s only so much I can do. I can provide a home and a job for my brothers and I will when it’s safe again, but all I can do is research it. I’ll never be a real expert. You’re studying to be a psychologist and probably already know more than I could ever hope to know.”

Bilbo crossed his arms, watching the snow fall in fat flakes to the ground. “I will think on it,” he promised. “But I’m not sure it’d be smart.” He smiled. “What if you need a spy?”

“I think you’ve already done everything you could do there. We already know that Azog met with Smaug and someone else that Thorin just called the Shadow or the Other and that they usually interrogated him.” Bilbo’s neck almost snapped with the force it took to turn it. Dis stared at him. “You didn’t know?”

“Not that.”

“Those incidents happened after hours,” Dis said, “Late at night. They didn’t…they didn’t torture him, thank God. Perhaps they believed it’d be crueler than what they’ve already done or that someone would notice if he got injured.” Dis sighed. “I wish he told me about Azog. I’d never have sent him to Moria if I had known. My brothers may think I need to be protected, but they’re so wrong.”

“I think they believe you’ve a lot on your shoulders, being a mother and a business woman. They didn’t want to burden you.”

“Caring for my family is no burden,” she said, smiling at him. “As you said, I’m a mother. Caring for my family is natural for me. And if you’ve not noticed, I’m the only woman in my family. I’m the sister, the wife, the mother of two rambunctious little boys…and I run a company on top of maintaining a safe environment for my family. I’ve not been the little girl who needed her brothers to fight her battles for her for a very long time. I could’ve taken the information and maybe even done something about it. Thorin and Frerin will never see it that way, though, if they haven’t by now. They still see the baby in a pink summer dress and bow headband, I guess.”

Bilbo leaned against the wall. “I’ll think about your offer, Mrs. Fundinson—”

“Dis, please,” she said, “Or Mrs. Durin, if you really want to keep the rather unnecessary formal front. I never changed my name.”

“Oh. Dis, then. Um, I’ll think about it, but as I said, I’m not sure I should accept your offer.”

“Go ahead and give it as much thought as you want. But it might be safer being Thorin’s private caretaker than an orderly at Moria.”

He nodded. It would be safer. And he wanted to jump at the opportunity.

Bilbo never used to be bad at jumping. When he was little, learning to swim, his father tried to emphasize the necessity of learning _how_ to swim first before learning to dive. Instead, with floaties attached to his arms, Bilbo would run to the diving board at the deep end before his father could stop him. He was urged to wait for either his mother or father before being allowed to jump in because of the possibility of drowning. Either one of them would catch him, teach him how to kick his feet and propel his arms until he was too tired. Then once his energy returned, he’d do it again. It was more fun that way and he learned to swim faster.

Learning to play the piano was much the same way. Due to needing to learn scales first and the slow process of the practice, he never managed to master it because he grew too bored.

When he chose to study in Germany, it was more a chance of getting away from his grandparents for a while. He liked jumping. He liked being reckless sometimes. Working at Moria had gone from a jump to being pushed too far and now there were days he felt he was drowning.

If Bilbo jumped this time, it could cause trouble for all. No one would catch him. He might really drown this time.

“Dis, Bilbo, get in here before Thorin takes matters into his own hands and cooks lunch,” Frerin said.

“How bad would that be?” Bilbo asked.

“Thorin burnt pasta once.”

Bilbo blinked and scrunched his brow. “How does one burn pasta?”

“Yeah, Thorin’s got talent,” Frerin said, smirking.

“Fine,” Bilbo sighed. “I’ll save you all from his cooking but only because, as interesting as that would be to see, I don’t want burnt food.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.helpguide.org/mental/schizophrenia_treatment_support.htm


	23. Chapter 23

The following days at work were much the same as they’d all been since Thorin’s escape. He didn’t know why Azog suspected Thorin would go to him. Or, and Bilbo’s blood chilled at the thought, how he knew Thorin would go looking for him. He felt as though Azog was breathing down his neck most days and he couldn't figure out why.

“There you are!” Bolg shouted, pulling Bilbo into a headlock. “It’s been ages! You’re going drinking with me and the others tonight.”

“Not here to see Dad?”

“What would be the point?” Bolg asked. “I see him all the time at home.”

“Point taken,” Bilbo said. “Now will you let go of me? It’s getting a little difficult to breathe.”

“Not until you agree to go drinking with us.”

“Bolg, I’ve been busy.”

“With school?”

“Among other things?”

“Oh? Finally got a boyfriend? Did you and Nori finally—”

“No! Nori and I are _not_ together. I’ve not seen him for ages. I’ve not called him nor has he called me.”

“But you got a boyfriend?”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”

“It’s a legitimate question and will be the only way I’ll let you get out of drinking with us.”

Bilbo sighed. He needed a believable lie. “Well…not a boyfriend per se. More a friend I happen to like and we study together.” Bolg released him. “Sorry.”

“You should still come drinking with us,” Bolg said. “Too much studying fries the brain.”

Bilbo hummed. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, I’m still on the clock and I’ve got to get to D Wing.”

“Cool. I’ll go bother Dad if he’s not busy.”

“I thought you said you see him enough at home.” Bolg flipped him off and Bilbo’s grin died down once Bolg had disappeared down the hall. _How did someone like Azog manage to raise such a nice guy like Bolg?_ He wondered, heading to D Wing. He met Lurtz in front of the door.

“Ready?” he asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Bilbo said, pushing the cart inside. Again, a standard procedure. Sméagol pet his ring, singing quietly to himself. “Sméagol,” Bilbo said. “Can we come in?”

“Candy?”

“In a moment,” Bilbo handed him the pills and checked to make sure he had taken them before he gave him the cough syrup. Sméagol turned back to his ring. “Would you like to play a game later?”

“No, not today, Precious. No games today. Meeting today. Big meeting with the Master.” Master? Bilbo looked at Lurtz, who shrugged. They closed the door behind him. He made a note to let Azog know of this new development before moving onto the next group.

“Did Bolg catch you yet?”

“He did,” Bilbo said. “I have to decline. School, you know.”

“It’s okay if you’ve gotten a boyfriend, Bilbo,” Lurtz said. “Just remind him not to tug the leash too tightly.”

Bilbo blushed, glaring at Lurtz’s smirk. “Must you?”

“Hey, your kinks are your kinks.”

“I’d rather have one annoying friend at a time and today that’s been Bolg. It’s usually Blotaz but I’ve not seen him for a while…”

“Yeah, he’s getting ready to help move his mother to a nursing home in Berlin,” Lurtz said. “He’ll be back Monday.” They walked past Thorin’s old room and Bilbo, by habit, turned toward it. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Lurtz stared at the door and scoffed. “You know, wherever he is, I hope it’s better equipped than we are. I used to wonder why Dr. Gundebad was all right with keeping Thorin here.”

“Huh. I guess it’d be better if he was somewhere better equipped, right?”

“Much.” They passed the empty room.

“Then why is Dr. Gundebad so obsessed with getting him back if we aren’t the best facility for someone as violent as Thorin?”

“Not a clue. It’s not fair to you, either, way he seems to think you’d know where he was. Honestly, I’d not have stood for it.”

“You’d have quit?”

“Long before now if I was in your position,” Lurtz said. “If not because of a patient obsessed with me as much as Thorin was with you, then because of the way the doctor’s been breathing down your neck. He knows you’re capable and you know what you’re doing.”

Bilbo hummed. “I don’t have the time to job hunt,” he admitted. “But I was thinking about it. Actually…I got an offer to work for someone else. I’m still…I’m not sure if I should consider it.”

“Which facility?”

“Oh, um, actually it’d be a private caretaker position. A friend of a friend asked me to consider working for her. Her brother has schizophrenia. He’s on medicine, but she works too much and…well, you can guess.” They entered another room, took care of another patient and left. “They offered a higher wage, but I’ve yet to discuss it further with them.”

“You’d live with them?”

“Yeah. Online classes…”

“Well, we’d miss you if you decide to work for that family,” Lurtz said, leading him out. “But do what you think is right. But if we find you and kidnap you, you’ve no one to blame but yourself.”

Bilbo chuckled, unsure whether he should feel welcomed by the kidnapping statement. One could never tell if that was a threat or not. Especially when it came from Lurtz. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

#

Bilbo closed the door behind him and leaned against it. He felt a little buzzed, but not drunk. He was too afraid to drink too much and reveal that he _did_ know where Thorin was. But no one made him drink more than he wanted. Which was good, if Bilbo said so himself.

“You’re back late,” Frerin said, standing in the hall.

“I got dragged off to drink with my coworkers,” Bilbo admitted.

“You don’t look drunk.”

“I’m not.”

“Ugh, no fun. Pity Thorin can’t drink.”

“Yes, I can,” Thorin snapped.

“I advise against that,” Bilbo called.

“What are you? My mother?” Thorin shouted.

Bilbo straightened and entered the living room. Thorin was flipping through another book, frowning. “At the moment, I’m the closest thing to a doctor you have,” Bilbo snapped. Thorin glared at him and Bilbo nearly quieted then. Instead, he took a breath and continued. “And I’m telling you that you shouldn’t drink. You need to be more conscientious of your health from now on: physical, emotional, _and_ mental. Am I clear?”

They glared at each other, willing the other to back down. Bilbo was _not_ going to let Thorin cow him. He refused to let Thorin rule him. “Still advice though,” Thorin said. Bilbo blinked. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Frerin snorted. “Twisting words again?”

“He said he’d ‘advise’ that I not drink. There was no order that I should not,” Thorin said. Bilbo threw his hands up and stormed away.

“You need to stop doing that to him,” Frerin said. “It’s kind of mean, Thorin.” Bilbo didn’t hear Thorin’s response. Nor was he sure he wanted to hear it. He collapsed on his bed and groaned. Why did Thorin have to be so infuriating?

Why did he have to be so bloody gorgeous on top of infuriating?

He turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling, hands resting on his chest. Thorin was beginning to consume him and it was frightening how he could crawl into Bilbo’s mind and simply make his presence stronger and unable to be ignored. It was the voice. And it was those eyes. It was progressively getting harder to ignore the spark Bilbo felt—a spark he distinctly did not have before—whenever their fingers brushed when Bilbo handed Thorin his pills and a glass of water.

Bilbo huffed. Falling in love with Thorin was only going to cause him more trouble than he already had. It was an inconvenience and if he was going to agree to Dis’ offer, he’d have to maintain some sort of professionalism. He couldn’t afford to fall in love with Thorin.

He wanted to kick whatever made his inner voice say, “Yet.”

_I need to distract myself. School. I’ve homework. Perfect._

He sat up and grabbed his laptop. It wasn’t much of a reprieve, but at least it’d keep him busy until sleep claimed him. He was in the middle of his developmental psychology class when something slid under his door. Bilbo stared at it, wondering which of the brothers left it. Gandalf would have just come inside. He stood and picked it up.

> _I’m sorry. I know you’re tired and stressed. I shouldn’t have given you such a hard time tonight. Frerin ordered dinner. Will let you know when it’s here.—Thorin_

Bilbo set the note down and opened the door, startled to see Thorin in the hallway. “You could just say all that to my face.” Thorin shrugged, refusing to look at him, scowling at his feet. His cheeks were slightly tinged. Was he _blushing_? Bilbo sighed. “Thank you,” he said. “And I accept your apology.”

“Good,” Thorin said. “Right. See you in about half an hour or so then.” He headed for the stairs and paused. His shoulders dropped and he turned around and cut the distance between him and Bilbo again before pushing him back into the room.

“What are you—”

“Something has changed and I know you know what has. For whatever reason, you chose to lie to me. Okay, I can accept that. I had frightened you before, so I can accept that you lied to me. I had hoped that what I feel for you would die once I started getting better. Well it seems I have a grasp on everything I need to have a grasp on _except_ how I feel for you. I’m not blind, Bilbo. I’ve caught you looking at me. I’ve seen you blush whenever we touched, no matter how brief.”

“Nothing is changing!” Bilbo snapped. “And even if it was, it wouldn’t matter. Even if I did fall in love with you, even if there was even a little bit of hope for…for whatever it is we have, it isn’t going to happen! I will eventually go back to England. I _have_ to go back eventually, Thorin. That’s where my family is so I’ll have to go back one day.”

“Who said you had to stay there permanently?”

“ _I_ say so!” Bilbo shouted, grasping for an argument of some sort. “Everything I have left is there! Everything I have left of my _parents_ is there! I can’t lose that! Just as everything you have is here! You’d really give it all up for me—”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Bilbo blinked. He stepped back as though Thorin was crowding him. “I never lied to you. I hid the truth at times, maybe, but I never lied to you, Bilbo. And I’d not lie to you now. Nothing here would mean anything if you weren’t by my side to share it with.”

Bilbo clenched and unclenched his fists. “You never give up, do you?”

Thorin leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest. “If you were telling the truth the other day, I would have left it alone,” he said. “But you lied to me. And I’m not stupid, Bilbo. I know something’s changed. Just tell me I have a chance or not.”

“Would it matter?” he asked. “Would it even change our current situation if I was in love with you? Because I don’t see how it would. We’d still have to deal with Melkor after we’re done with Azog.”

“But do you?” Thorin pressed. Bilbo closed his eyes, trying to keep his tears back. “Do you love me? Forget Azog, Smaug, the Melkor Corporation, and that you’re my ‘doctor.’ Don’t factor that in. Are you in love with me? Because I know I love you and I have tried pushing you away and it’s not worked.”

Bilbo bit his lip and lowered his hand. “Yes. I think I have fallen in love with you. But it doesn’t matter. With everything that’s going on, it doesn’t matter.” He sighed. “Will you leave now? I have homework to do and I’d like to get it done before dinner.”

Thorin didn’t move. Bilbo sat on the bed, turning back to his computer. He didn’t look at the door until he heard it shut behind Thorin. He stared at the assignment in front of him and he closed the laptop, digging his wrists into his eyes and breathing too shakily for his liking.


	24. Chapter 24

Bilbo was not having a good day. It began with the migraine to end all migraines pounding through his head as he recalled his encounter with Thorin last night. He even forgot to take some medicine for it before heading to fill a morning shift at Moria. Azog still breathed down his neck, seeing if he’d slip up and reveal Thorin’s whereabouts. Bilbo was beginning to think that Azog already knew Bilbo was hiding him. Not that Bilbo was going to admit it any time.

He sighed and rubbed is tired eyes.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Lurtz asked.

“I’m fine. I didn’t drink that much, but I just…it’s not even noon yet and it’s been a long day.”

Lurtz hummed and steered the cart to the side. Dr. Gundebad walked by with a man beside him. The man was tall and lithe. Blond hair well brushed at the top of his head and blue eyes were staring at his watch. He looked up and met Bilbo’s gaze, smirking.

“Who was that?” Bilbo asked once they turned the corner.

“Sauron Gauthar,” Lurtz said. “He owns Mordor Incorporated.”

“Isn’t that a subsidiary of Melkor Corp?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Lurtz said. “All I know is that Mordor owns a few other places apart from Moria Asylum: Weathered Heaths Mining Co., AngmarTech, Numenor Oil…you know, big places. He’s always looking to grow the industry.”

Bilbo bit his lip and followed Lurtz down the hall.

He had to figure out what they’re talking about.

#

Bilbo pressed his ear to the office door. The walls were thankfully thinner than they probably ought to be, so he managed to hear them.

“I can’t do that without raising suspicion,” Azog said. “If Baggins disappears, the Oakenshields will know I had a hand in it.”

“But you agree something must be done?”

“I do. He knows where Thorin is.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

Azog laughed. “Thorin’s been suffering a case of blue balls since he _met_ the twink. Of course he’d go after him. Given that no one has seen Thorin in weeks, and that Bilbo’s schedule changed, _and_ Dis Durin’s sudden desire to sue me for malpractice, it’s safe to say that Thorin not only found Bilbo and is still staying with him, but Bilbo somehow found a way to tell the bitch Thorin wasn’t getting medicated.”

“You still lost him.”

“I’ll find him. How’s your man at Erebor doing?”

“Progressing slowly,” Sauron said, sighing. “I told him to go ahead and strike on the lovely Mrs. Durin…you never did get her to let you give her brother ECT, did you?”

“No. Not that I think she suspected anything then, but ECT is harmless. It’s barely a tickle. Still, it would’ve been fun.”

Sauron laughed. “That is why I like you. The general sends his regards.”

Bilbo snuck away from the door and went to clock out, grinding his teeth. Once outside and on his way home, he called Gandalf.

#

Thorin almost pet the hard back cover of the book Dis brought him. _Lovecraft, how I’ve missed you_ , he thought, sitting on the couch and opened to the first page. He needed a distraction—anything to get his mind off the disastrous, previous evening.

Frerin told him he shouldn’t have pushed and Thorin was beginning to think he was right. Bilbo had not tried to speak to him since and that had hurt a bit when he stalked downstairs the previous night to eat and practically ignored Thorin. Worse, once Bilbo was gone and the awkward atmosphere finally began to lift, Frerin turned to him.

“What did you do now? I thought you were just going to apologize to him.”

 

> _...In the end I must rely on the judgment and standing of the few…_

 

Hilarious, really, that he’d find the one person he could ever hope to spend the rest of his life with after he’d lost his mind. Well, lost or not, he had a grip on his sanity now. Sure, Thorin expected there to be slips, given how early he still was in his treatment. But at least he could soon return to a normal life. Still, no matter how many times he told Bilbo he loved him, it didn’t seem like it made anything better or that it mattered to Bilbo even after he made him tell Thorin the truth.

Thorin closed the book and set it on the coffee table, hiding his face in his hands.

_How am I going to fix this?_

“Hello?” Bilbo called. Thorin’s heart raced and he sat up, grabbing the book and opening it again, pretending to read. Bilbo entered the room. “Just you?”

“Frerin went to buy something or other. A book or movie, I think. He left about twenty minutes ago.”

“He at least should’ve waited till I was home,” Bilbo muttered, shedding his coat and draping it over one of the dining room chairs. “Hungry?”

“Somewhat.” Thorin looked away from the book and stared at Bilbo’s back as he looked in the refrigerator. His eyes mapped him out. He was smaller than Thorin, and had a bit of chub, just enough to make him soft…and that ass…

Thorin licked his lips. “So you’re talking to me again?”

“Don’t read too much into it,” Bilbo said, grabbing some chicken breasts. “I’m still angry at you. I just believe that cutting off any communication with a patient isn’t going to do any good for either of us.”

“I think it’s safe to say we’ve passed that. You’re not even being paid to look after me.”

“Not that your sister’s not trying or that it would matter, would it?” Bilbo sucked in a breath, glaring at the counter top, placing his hands on it. “It might be easier for me to restrain from accidently cutting my own limbs off if you didn’t talk to me right now.”

Thorin stood, setting the book down again and put the chicken away. “We have leftovers,” he reminded Bilbo. “You don’t need to cook right now if you’re still upset.” _Please, try to rely on me a little, too_.

Bilbo closed his eyes and his breathing was shaky.

Thorin wanted to reach out and embrace him, hold him, kiss him…He wanted to comfort Bilbo however way he could, kiss his tears away and listen to his laugh. “Bad day?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Bilbo said, breathing in slowly again.

 _You’re not fine._ “Really?” Thorin scoffed. “You’re fine? You’re shaking and, while I understand why you’re mad at me, I don’t think it’d warrant this—”

“If I want to talk about it, Thorin, it would not be with you,” Bilbo snapped.

Thorin swallowed, mouth drying again as his heart ached again. Another reminder that even if Bilbo loved him, he didn’t want to love him. “Why not me?” he asked. “I’m here, aren’t I? I know I’m damaged, but—”

“You’re not damaged,” Bilbo said. “You’re stronger than you think, but what we feel for each other can’t exist. All right? I’m not supposed to fall in love with you and it scares me that I did, Thorin. It terrifies me. _You_ terrify me. Being obsessed with someone is not the same as being in love with them. Don’t you see? I don’t know if what I feel for you is _real_ , Thorin! How do you know what you feel is real either?”

Thorin stared at him, watching the tears spill down Bilbo’s cheeks. He wanted to wipe them away, kiss his bitten lips…“I don’t. All I know is that I can’t get you out of my head. You are beautiful, Bilbo, and I’m done fighting it. I don’t want to.”

“What do you know about Sauron Gauthar?” Bilbo asked, wiping his eyes. “Does he really own Mordor Inc? He was at the asylum today…”

“He doesn’t just own Mordor, he’s the face of Melkor Corp. What was he doing at the asylum?”

“Visiting Azog. They’re still looking for you and they know I have you—”

“You haven’t quit yet?!”

“I have no intention of quitting,” Bilbo snapped. “There’s no legitimate reason for me to quit!”

“Bilbo, if they even _think_ you have me, they’ll take action against you!”

“They already think so! They blew up my apartment for fuck’s sake! I’m well aware they’re dangerous, but beyond that, they’ve not done anything to me!”

“They’ll try again!” Thorin shouted.

“I get you're scared! I am too, but what else am I supposed to do about it?!”

“Bilbo—”

“I will decide whether or not to quit the only job I have!”

Thorin grabbed his shoulders. “Bilbo, please, they’ve already taken so much from me: my brother, my sanity, my _life_! I can’t let them take you from me too!” He cupped Bilbo’s cheek. “I might not get you back and I don’t want to take that risk.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bilbo said.

“That’s not good enough—”

“Thorin, let go of me!”

He released Bilbo as though he’d been scalded. “What do you think I’d do to you? Can’t you see how much this breaks my heart?”

Bilbo sighed. “Of course I see it. But, Thorin, we can’t. We just _can’t_. Could you _please_ just stop pushing it…what we feel doesn’t matter right now…it’s never going to.” He walked around Thorin, heading for the stairs.

_Don’t let him walk away again. Don’t let him run from you again._

_But if I chase him, he’ll just break free and keep running._

_Don’t let him run, then._

_He isn’t a thing to possess!_

“Bilbo!” Bilbo looked at him. “It matters to me and I’m not going to fight what I feel just because you’re terrified. I know I love you. Maybe I am obsessed, but I can’t keep living my life watching you run away from me. We’re in this together, can’t we at least find a way to make it a little more bearable?”

Bilbo leaned against the wall. “How? I’m supposed to be your nurse or doctor or something like that. That requires some degree of professionalism.”

“Which I think we can both agree is out the window and is probably never coming back,” Thorin said.

“Maybe, but then what am I supposed to do?” Bilbo asked.

“Will you still run?”

“I’m not running. If I was, I’d be in London right now.”

“I mean from me? It’s all you’ve ever done since we met!”

“I have not been running from you—”

“Are you still scared of me then?!”

“YES!!!” Bilbo shouted. “I as much as told you just a moment ago! I know you weren’t being medicated at the time, but that doesn’t change that you attacked me! It doesn’t change that walking into that room, regardless why I was walking in, terrified me! I never knew if you were going to assault me again or even try to—”

“I’d never hurt you intentionally.”

Bilbo shook his head. “That doesn’t change anything, Thorin. What’s done is done and even if I do love you, I don’t trust you. I don’t think I can.” He headed up the stairs. When he heard Bilbo’s door close, he approached the room and sat in the hallway, listening to the music blasting from the computer’s stereo.

He wished there was a way to fix this before he lost Bilbo for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote from “At the Mountain of Madness” by HP Lovecraft.


	25. Chapter 25

“He mentioned a man in Erebor,” Bilbo told the others. Radagast might’ve been the only one not listening as he pattered about the kitchen, taking a swab to the counters. Gandalf looked somewhere between annoyed and amused. “And there’s a bunch of other subsidiaries to Melkor Corp, so I was wondering if Erebor had hired anyone who might’ve worked at one of those places: Weathered Heaths Mining Company, AngmarTech, Numenor Oil Company, Moria Mental Institute and Psychiatric Hospital—”

“Smaug,” Dis said. “He worked at Weathered Heaths before getting a job at Erebor. There was a series of accidents before he left. We did all the background checks we could on him before hiring. He was clean. I’m sure of it.”

“But he threatened you in front of me,” Thorin said. “The day I realized I was losing it.”

“Could you not say it like that?” Dis snapped.

“It’s accurate,” Frerin said. Dis slapped the back of his head.

“We know that there was a fire there, which is why the company went out of business. Prior to that, we learned that the miners weren’t working in the most ideal conditions. The mines weren’t safe and about three of them collapsed that year.”

“Three?” Thorin ground his teeth. “Are you telling me we hired a guy who—”

“Claimed he hadn’t known how unsafe the mines were at all,” Dis said, placing a hand on Thorin’s forearm. “They weren’t his department. Smaug’s main job was a PA at the headquarters. We believed him, Thorin, and we haven’t any way of knowing if he’s responsible in any way for those collapses.”

“Actually,” Gandalf said. “We do. We already know there is something wrong at Moria. If we can connect other… _accidents_ to a subsidiary of Melkor, we may be able to unearth this conspiracy.”

“Sauron also mentioned a general to Azog,” Bilbo said. “But I don’t know who that would be.”

“One of Azog’s commanding officers, maybe?” Thorin said.

“AngmarTech was one of the companies, right?” Frerin asked. Bilbo nodded. “Have you anything on them?” Bilbo shook his head.

“Why?” Dis asked.

“AngmarTech makes state-of-the-art weaponry,” Thorin said. “We used their weapons when we were in the army. They were supplied by the General, who is also the _heir_ of the company. Probably owns it now, actually.”

“Likely,” Frerin said. “No one really knew his real name. We mostly called him _der Hexenkönig von Angmar_ or, more respectfully, General Angmar.”

“You called him the Witch King?” Bilbo asked incredulously.

“The general was a bastard,” Thorin said. “Anyone who dared to defy him never returned. Some say he personally tortured insurgents, civilians who got in his way, deserters, you name it.”

“There were also rumors that he was a cannibal, but no one could prove it.”

“You two worked under such a man?” Dis asked, her mouth drawn into a tight line.

“They were just rumors. There was no proof he was a cannibal or that he tortured anyone,” Thorin said, “All we know is that any who defied him were never seen again.” Dis sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She placed her elbows on her knees, hair falling like a curtain around her face.

“Dis?” Bilbo asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, waving him off. “I just…I wish you told me, Thorin.”

“Frerin and I agreed not to burden you—”

“It isn’t a burden to me!” she snapped. “You’re my brothers! You’ve always been there for me, protecting me when I haven’t needed to be protected for years now! I deserved to know what was going on with you two! I could’ve done something about it and you know it even if you’d rather not admit it! I may not have a penis, but I’m not weak!”

“We know,” Frerin said.

“Dis, we never thought of you as weak,” Thorin assured her. “We promised Dad—”

“Don’t use Dad as an excuse to hide things from me!” Dis shouted. “I’m a grown woman, Thorin. I’m not a little girl anymore!”

“You’re married and you have two kids,” Thorin said. “I _think_ we’ve already established and accepted that you’re an adult. But even then you’ll always be our baby sister.”

“It’s our job and duty to—”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Dis growled, glaring at Frerin.

“Becoming a mom and a CEO inserted a stick up your ass, didn’t it?” Frerin asked. Gandalf shook his head, massaging his forehead.

“I will make a few inquiries,” he said, standing. “Until we know Smaug was in fact involved with what happened at the mining company, it would be best not to act.”

“Fine,” Dis said, “But I get the drop on him.”

“By all means,” Gandalf said with a smirk. “I look forward to seeing that.”

Bilbo cleared his throat. “Dis, Sauron said about telling his man at Erebor to…well, I don’t know for sure, just that he’ll tell him to do something to you. Gandalf’s fast, but—”

“Bilbo, I’ll be fine,” she said. “But thank you for letting me know.” She stood. “I’ve got to pick up two rambunctious boys from school and dinner to make, but I’ll tell you how it goes tomorrow.”

“Why not just film it for us then?” Frerin sneered.

“Oh it’ll be filmed,” Dis said, grinning evilly. “I promise.” She left with Gandalf. Once the door closed behind them, Radagast cleared his throat.

“Scary one, she is.”

“You’ve no idea,” Thorin said with a measure of pride.

“Learned from the best,” Frerin agreed. “Bilbo, can I talk to you?”

Bilbo blinked. “Um, sure, I guess,” he said and followed Frerin outside. Frerin lit a cigarette. “You smoke too?”

“Yeah, we know smoking’s a bad habit. Dis switched to the electronic type because of her kids, and Thorin had no choice but to quit when he was hospitalized. But there you have it.”

“Huh,” Bilbo said. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Thorin.”

“If you want me to accept Dis’ offer—”

“No, I don’t,” he said, leaning against the wall. “It’s about how he feels for you.”

Bilbo groaned. “Look, I know you’re worried about your brother and I don’t mean to hurt him, but I can’t get involved with him. It wouldn’t be wise.”

“No, it wouldn’t be wise, but since when did wisdom ever play into love?”

“There’s no way to really know if we _do_ love each other. Yes, I’ll admit I think I am in love with him, but with everything going on it’s just…bad timing.”

“Bilbo, you don’t have to explain your reasons for denying yourself or for pushing him away. It’s a mess, I get that. But I also see that it hurts him. Would it really be such a bad thing if you indulged a little?”

“That would be false hope for Thorin. In the end, it’d be crueler than rejecting him.”

“True. Forget I said that. My brother royally screwed up when it came to wooing you.” Bilbo scoffed. He wouldn’t call it wooing. “Okay, maybe ‘woo’ is not the right word to use. He scared you before, I get that. But he doesn’t intend to hurt you, Bilbo. He doesn’t mean to. Never did. And he knows what he did when he was untreated was wrong.”

“Frerin, you sound a lot like him right now,” Bilbo said. “So much so that I get the feeling he asked you to talk to me in his stead.”

“That obvious, huh?” Frerin asked, smirking. He took a drag and released the smoke in a whoosh. “Tell me what you think. I know his thoughts, but what about you?”

Bilbo leaned on the rail and ran his fingers through his hair. “Honestly, since he started taking medicine, he’s changed. I guess he’s more like himself than he was before. Had I met him before now, I’d probably be able to fall in love with him.”

“Doubtful. Thorin had been hurt in the past. Most of his partners were gold diggers, just waiting to get a hand on our fortune. Thorin’s always been a romantic, and you fit his type…even if you’re a bit young.”

“I’m a legal adult.”

“I know, but you’re still in college, right?”

“Okay, I see your point,” Bilbo said. “But I’m afraid that I might have Stockholm syndrome or something. I’m with him nearly all day when I’m not at Moria. I rarely go outside anymore because of this. My coworkers and friends are suspicious. But for whatever reason, I can’t tell if I’m terrified to come home where he is or elated. To add, I used to be his caretaker. I administered fake shots, I held him down so he could get them. I was paid to look after him despite how terrified of him I was. God, I even went as far as to put myself in the same room with him alone. Nothing happened, except that we talked and it was only once or twice…I don’t remember.” Bilbo leaned against the wall, stuffing his hands in his pockets and stared at the melting snow. “I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.”

“You fell in love with the real Thorin,” Frerin said, “After he was medicated, and not before. You may not have met him before his sickness, but I can promise you that I’ve never seen my brother this invested in another person in a very long time. Neither is my brother nor am I a stranger to abusive relationships, Bilbo. You’re the psychologist, aren’t you? Tell me: is it really Stockholm syndrome? Thorin’s not holding you captive. He’s bold, but he obeys you when you tell him not to touch you. He doesn’t try to hurt you or scare you. He tries, and often fails, to give you space. Thorin wants you to be comfortable with him. He’s desperate for your attention. What he feels might’ve started out as a schizophrenia-induced obsession, but now that he’s got some control over himself, not seeing demons or whatever it was he was seeing, he still feels he’s in love with you. How do you know what he feels is not real love? Or even true love? I watch my brother just as closely as you do. When you’re home his eyes follow you. He tightens his hands into fists and I think it’s because he is resisting the urge to hug you. He bites his lip because he’s thinking of kissing you and he’s resisting every urge because he doesn’t want to lose you. When he’s upset, he sits outside your room and waits for you to come out because seeing you, being near you, makes him feel a little bit better—and yeah, that’s creepy. I know that. I think he knows it too, but at the same time, Bilbo, he’s at a loss at what to do. You gave him hope when there wasn’t any hope to be found. I think he’s afraid of losing you because he thinks if he loses you then there’s no hope for either recovery or freedom from his illness.”

Bilbo chuckled weakly. “Damn it, none of that helps. I didn’t know he waited outside my door like that! How am I supposed to trust him when he—”

“He’s _lost_ , Bilbo. He’s terrified. He has been for a very long time and somehow _you_ make him feel safe again. I don’t know how you do it, but you calm him. I think he said you ‘soothed’ him.”

“Aren’t I also supposed to feel safe?”

“Are you sure you’re letting yourself feel safe?”

“It’s not a matter of whether I can control how I feel around him. I don’t feel safe with Thorin, sane or insane. Maybe if I knew him before, but he _did_ hurt me, Frerin; he bit me. He cornered me in a closet and…” Bilbo sighed. “Even if he feels safe with me, I don’t think I can ever feel safe with him. That’s why I think my feelings are a manifestation of Stockholm or similar to it, at least. How am I supposed to help him when I can’t even control myself?”

Frerin took another drag, frowning. “Bilbo, what’s your take on the Disney version of _Beauty and the Beast_?” Bilbo arched a brow. “A lot of people assume _Beauty and the Beast_ is a tale about a girl who is taken captive and falls in love with her captor, who is a monster. To be honest, it could be one interpretation, but it’s far from what is really going on. It’s actually about two outcasts finding solace in each other. Their relationship is not romantic in the beginning at all. By the time he does fall in love with her, the beast tells her she can go and that she’s not a prisoner anymore. And when his life is threatened she goes back to help him.”

“I see your point,” Bilbo said, “And I see the parallels, but mental illness is not a curse to be broken, Frerin. It’s not easily fixed.”

“But it can be controlled. It can be managed.”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t change who Thorin is initially. He’s the same as always, even in his untreated state. See it this way: when he’s untreated, is Thorin responsible for the way he acted?”

Bilbo shook his head. “No.”

“With that in mind, now that he can control himself again, is your fear of him rational? Are you absolutely sure you fell in love with someone who has no control over their actions? Way I see it, you fell in love with Thorin _when_ he started getting a hold of himself again. I’m okay with that. I might not like the way he goes about expressing his feelings for you, but I wouldn’t mind you and him getting together if you decide to. I think it’d be good for both of you.” He patted Bilbo’s shoulder. “Think about it, at least. Okay?” Bilbo nodded and Frerin went inside, leaving him outside in the cold.

 _What do I do?_ Bilbo thought. _Do I give in or do I keep fighting against what I feel?_

_What should I do?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frerin's interpretation of Beauty and the Beast comes from this:  
> http://waltdisneyconfessionsrage.tumblr.com/post/58754652389/why-beauty-and-the-beast-is-not-about-stockholm


	26. Chapter 26

“Are those bananas?” Thorin asked, staring at the salad. Bilbo placed his hands on his hips and glared.

“Who puts bananas in salad?” Frerin asked, giving it the same funny look. Bilbo shook his head. These brothers, he _swore to God_ , were going to be killed prematurely if they continued to criticize his food. It took a ridiculous amount of effort already to make them eat vegetables and fruit as it is.

“Just try it,” Bilbo said. “Who knows? You might like it.”

“Can’t you just add chicken instead?” Frerin asked.

“I already added the fruit. If I were to add meat it’d taste terrible.”

Someone knocked on the door and Bilbo went to answer it. “Touch the salad and I will—”

“We weren’t going to touch it!” Frerin said. Bilbo glared at him.

“You were thinking of tossing it down the disposal, weren’t you?” Thorin shook his head but Frerin looked sheepish. Thorin glared at Frerin.

“Fine, I won’t touch it! Jeez…” Bilbo shook his head and approached the door. Dis stood in the doorway. With her were her children and husband, glaring down at him, her husband. Dis looked quite proud of herself. Behind them was Bard who looked something between amused and angry.

“You know that video I promised?” she said.

“Video?” Bard asked, crossing his arms.

“Yes?” Bilbo said.

“I have it.”

“What?” Bilbo said. “Come in. We’re watching that. Have you all eaten? I was in the middle of making dinner.” The boys shook their heads and Dis pushed them inside. Bard nodded at Bilbo as he strode past him and Dwalin, who kept glaring down at him and Bilbo cleared his throat. “Good evening.”

“You’re the one who sent her those files about Smaug?” Dwalin asked, narrowing his eyes. Bilbo tried not to gulp.

“No, that would be Gandalf,” Bilbo said. “I’m just a grad student.”

“I’ll be having a word with him then after this.”

“What happened?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he growled, heading to the kitchen. Bilbo followed. Dis grinned.

“Bilbo, this salad looks amazing,” Dis said.

“Thanks,” Bilbo said. At least _someone_ appreciates a well made salad. Dwalin and the boys had wrinkled their noses at it as badly as Thorin and Frerin had.

“Why is there fruit in it?”

“ _Kili_ ,” Dis warned.

“That’s what we want to know!” Frerin exclaimed. Bard had stolen a few croutons and now munched on them without a care, still glaring at Dis.

Dis turned to Bilbo. “Is this what you deal with?” she asked Bilbo nodded. “I am so sorry.”

“I’m getting used to it,” Bilbo said. Dis smacked Thorin and Frerin atop their heads anyway. Dwalin was staring at them as though somehow Thorin and Frerin became conjoined twins somehow.

“You two need to be nice!”

“Will someone explain what is going on?!” Dwalin shouted. “Who are you?” He snapped at Frerin. “And why are you not loopy?”

“Hey!” Thorin snapped, tossing a crouton at Dwalin. Bilbo slumped his shoulders. Was it too much to ask them to behave themselves? Still, Frerin started with his supposed death, and picked up by Thorin about his incarceration in Moria and meeting Bilbo, who ended the explanation with what was really going on there and some of what they found out.

By the end of it, Dwalin had sat down and now stared at his hands. “All this time?” he asked, looking at Frerin, who nodded. “I ought to kill you for that stunt!”

“It was necessary! And besides, I’m still not sure how I feel about you marrying my sister, so we’re even. And why would you allow that?” Frerin said, turning on Thorin.

“Because I’d rather our sister get married someone we know and trust and I would trust Dwalin with my life, Frerin.”

“I missed out on a shovel talk because of all this crap,” Frerin said, crossing his arms and leaning on the table. Thorin snorted.

“Little late for that anyway,” he said. “They’ve been married almost five years?”

“Seven,” Dwalin corrected. Thorin furrowed his brow and glared at him. “What?” Thorin sighed.

“Damn. Didn’t realize that much time had passed.”

Dis called them to attention, ready to play the video. She settled between her husband and eldest. Kili had climbed onto Thorin’s lap and was showing him some of his school work. Bard sat beside Frerin and Bilbo found himself next to Thorin.

The image was grainy, but one could still point Dis out in the office. She backed away from it and took a seat at her desk, she picked up her phone and called. A few minutes passed boringly as she waited for policemen along with Bard to enter. She spoke to them and the men hid themselves around the room.

~Ten Hours Earlier~

Dis heard the door open and close. She glanced up briefly to assure that it was Smaug entering the room, handing her a cup of tea. She smiled. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome” Smaug said. She set the cup down, but did not drink.

“Smaug, might I have a word in private,” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Lock the door, please,” Dis said, standing. Once the door had clicked shut, Dis circled around the desk and leaned against it, legs crossed at her ankles.

“What is this about, Madam?”

“You’re old employment with the Weathered Heaths.”

“I told you everything about that.”

“No, you didn’t,” she said. “A friendly source sent me some rather disturbing information about what actually happened.” She held up the papers Gandalf faxed her. “These are inspection notes. All noting that the mines operating under the Weathered Heaths were hazardous in one way or other. Three specifically the year before you came to work for us collapsed. Hundreds of miners were killed in those accidents. The Weathered Heaths owner closed the company instead of made any changes to make the mines safer for his workers. You never said that the owner was actually _you_.”

Smaug’s face had paled as Dis set the papers back down on her desk.

“To add, you lied to the press when my brother was incarcerated three years ago for attacking you. You see, I know what happened to my brothers in the army now.”

“You found him?”

“Someone brought me to him and that is all I’m going to say about it. I also know what you _did_ say to Thorin that day. He said that you threatened me to his face.”

The corner of Smaug’s mouth twitched. “I assure you, Mrs. Durin, I don’t know what you mean. Why would I threaten you? Your brother is disturbed.”

“My brother has been medicated since his escape from Moria and I know that you are very well aware that if I have to choose between your word and my brother’s testimony, I’m going to choose my brother. Especially now that I know you lied at your interview. You told me that you were a PA, an administrator for the Weathered Heaths Mining Company. These,” she picked up the papers again. “Say a very different thing from what you told me.”

“Documents can be forged.”

“This unnamed source I mentioned is a friend of my family, Smaug. He wouldn’t give me fraudulent papers. That I assure you.” She set the papers down again. “Why lie to me? Why was it important to get my brother out of the way? Why are you still working for a Mr. Sauron Gauthar when Erebor is not affiliated with either Mordor or Melkor? And cut the crap. I already know the truth. You’re going to be fired anyway. Why continue the lies?”

Smaug shook his head. “Fine, if you want the truth….”

“I do,” Dis said. They sat down, the desk was Dis’ only barrier between her and Smaug.

“Mr. Gauthar wants the Arkenstone,” Smaug said. “He believes its uniqueness might make it purer than most metals. Purer, even, than mithril: the metal that was being mined by my company which is stronger than diamond and yet also can be easily shaped at the right temperatures. It lines the outer shells of our weapons and acts as a sort of lightweight armor for soldiers, better than bulletproof vests. Mithril is found so deep into the earth that it was virtually impossible for the mines to be safe enough for extracting this metal. The Arkenstone is the only one of its kind and Mr. Gauthar is curious how much power a metal such as that would give new weapons. Another friend will be developing these weapons.”

“So you’re here to somehow convince me to hand over my family’s heirloom because you want to melt it down and use it to see if you can have a more…what? Powerful weapon? Is this an incentive to cause another war?”

“That I am not sure. It’s possible. Or it may be the Mr. Gauthar intends to rise in power. He would unify the world. Think of it: no more starving children, no more war under him. Peace at last.”

Dis shook her head. “You’re backing a new dictator?”

“He’s not a dictator yet, but look around you, Madam. People are flawed and evil is so easy to give into. The Melkor Corporation will lead us to a new order.”

“A military order. A communist order.”

“Not quite, but close. Communism is very flawed. Same as democracy. Remember the Roman Empire? That had a republic and it fell. We intend to do away with all forms of government that give people power because _look at where we are_ today. Crime is at a new time high. There is violence everywhere we turn, be it theft or murder or rape. We seek to make the world a utopia, which cannot be done if the people are all equal. There must be a leader to lay down the law and uphold it.”

Dis shook her head. “You’re _insane_.”

“Sanity is fleeting,” Smaug said. “I’ll admit perfection is an impossibility. First of all, the world cannot be rebuilt on the old foundations. So yes there is going to be another war—a war that _truly_ will end all wars. And after we win, Sauron will rebuild everything.”

“No one will agree with this!”

“They won’t have a choice. The Melkor Corporation has been working on this for a very long time. It’s awesome to be able to see it finally come to life.”

“And that is everything?”

“Only one thing left to do: that is to silence you. For that, I apologize, Madam, but whoever your source is, I cannot let them find out about this, let alone Mr. Oakenshield.”

Dis heart seemed to beat faster. Blood rushed to her brain, making it difficult think. She took a breath. “I see. But it’ll be difficult to kill me when you’re in prison.” Smaug’s brow furrowed, confused. Dis stood. “Bard, you can come out now,” she said. Bard did so, pulling Smaug out of the chair and shackling him before leading him away.

~Now~

“Dis,” Thorin said once the video ended. “ _Never_ do that again.”

“It was awesome,” Fili said.

“It was _fun_ ,” Dis said. Dwalin groaned and hid his face behind a hand. Dis rubbed his back. “I’m all right, honey. I was safe. The police were there.”

“You are _never_ _ever_ doing that again,” Dwalin said. “I don’t care if you had the entire _military_ with you in the room. You are _never_ doing that again!”

Bilbo stood. “Dinner’s ready,” he said, walking to the kitchen. “And Dis.” She looked at him. “You are officially a badass. I am _never_ getting on your bad side.”

Dis threw her head back and laughed despite the collective groans from her brothers and husbands while her sons asked if she was going to run for president in the new elections. Bard, on the other hand, said he was confiscating the video after dinner.


	27. Chapter 27

_We seek to make the world a utopia, which cannot be done if the people are all equal…_

_There is going to be another war—a war that truly will end all wars…_

_Mithril…the Arkenstone…_

Bilbo sat up, panting. His skin was coated in cold sweat. He lied back down and covered his eyes with his forearm. What did he get into? He thought this would be simple—well, as simple as it was before which, admittedly, wasn’t as simple before. Now he’d gladly focus on _that_.

When Gandalf saw the video, he had fled as soon as it ended, saying he needed to do some research. He didn’t specify on what.

Once he had gone, Thorin and Frerin bade their family goodnight and safe travels. Thorin asked if they’d rather stay and Dwalin waved him off, telling him to get some rest of his own.

Frerin was first to go to bed after, then Bilbo.

He stood and turned on the light, heading downstairs to the kitchen. He turned the light on and nearly screamed when he saw Thorin lying on the couch, wrapped in one of the blankets that usually decorated the back.

“Thorin?” He looked up at him, blinking. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Why aren’t you?” he asked, bypassing Bilbo’s question.

“Had a bad dream,” Bilbo said. “And you?” Thorin blinked.

“Too many thoughts,” he said, sitting up, blanket wrapped tightly around him. “Before I was sick, I would neglect sleep, so immersed in working that I’d forget the time and just work right through things. Dis said I had to be brought food since I tended to work through meals too. She called it a bad habit.”

“Well, forgetting you need to sleep is bad,” Bilbo said, “but what about now? You said thoughts were keeping you up? What sort of thoughts?”

“If you’re asking as a shrink I won’t answer.”

“You know, I might like to think myself as _that_ to you, but we both know we’ve passed that,” Bilbo said. “I kept…dreaming about the video Dis showed us.” He swallowed. “It was simpler when all I had to worry about was you attacking me in a broom closet.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Thorin said, lips quirking in a smile. “Have I apologized for that? And your lip?”

Bilbo blinked. “You know, I don’t know. You did apologize about those before.”

“When I wasn’t medicated,” Thorin said. “Both times, I only cared whether or not I’d see you again and it hurt thinking I’d never be able to see you. And when I…all I was hoping I’d do was show you how I felt. It wasn’t right, and I wish I could have controlled myself then. Not because I think you might be able to love me then, but because I’m not like that. Normally, according to everyone I know…or knew before, when I liked someone, I tended to glare at them before daring to go and ask them out. Usually got shot down. Apparently, I’m intimidating.”

“You glared at them?”

“I didn’t think I was glaring. Apparently, when I ogle I look angry or annoyed.”

Bilbo chuckled.

“What?”

“I can’t tell if that’s funny or cute,” he said. “A bit of both. I’m sorry that never worked for you.”

He shrugged. “I’m used to it.” Thorin’s lips quirked in a smile and Bilbo stood.

“Would you like a glass of water?”

“I would, thank you.”

Bilbo retrieved the glasses.

“You were dreaming about the video?” Thorin asked. “Why? The whole thing was disturbing, to be honest. Not sure what shook me more. What Smaug revealed or that my sister could be that reckless.”

“She handled herself well,” Bilbo said. He handed Thorin a glass.

“She’s still my sister,” he said, taking it from Bilbo’s hands. “I’m going to worry.”

Bilbo sat beside him. “I’m focusing on what Smaug told her. About what he was mining back at his old company, his idea of what Sauron is planning…it scares me that someone is actually backing for another world war. Or that more than one person would…It makes what we were worried about before seem inconsequential. I don’t even understand why they dragged your family into it. I mean, they want the Arkenstone, but that doesn’t explain why Azog would abuse his position to get to you and Frerin.”

“I can’t answer that,” Thorin said. “Maybe we’ll find out at the trial. If the army is in Sauron’s pockets, then he might’ve realized we were there and…honestly, I can’t think of anything that would justify what happened to me and my brother. Maybe we’ll never know what was going through his head. Maybe he just wanted a fuck toy.”

His hands shook. Bilbo took the glass from him, setting both cups on the coffee table.

“Thorin, look at me,” he said.

Thorin met his gaze, biting his lower lip. He took Thorin’s hand in his, gently squeezing it.

“The shame is on him. Not you, not Frerin. You and your brother are so strong, I can’t…I don’t know what I would’ve done if our places were reversed. I could never hope to be that strong.”

Thorin lowered his eyes to their clasped hands. He raised them to his mouth, pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s knuckles, chaste, tentative, and nearly unfeeling. He expected Bilbo to pull away. Bilbo didn’t, heart hammering against his ribcage.

“Do you think love can come out of a bad situation?” Bilbo asked.

Thorin lowered their hands, still held, though the grip barely counted. “Yes.”

“I mean real love. Genuine love.”

“You don’t have Stockholm, Bilbo. Trust me, I’ve seen it before. And our situation’s pretty bad. I’ve been asking myself the same questions. I don’t know if what I feel for you now is real or not. All I know is that…you walk in the room and I feel hope. If I had a bad day, you would make it better whenever you walked in a room. You are the morning sunlight chasing away the darkness that haunts me…and that’s overstepping, isn’t it?”

“No,” Bilbo said. “It’s sweet. And I’m not sure if I needed to hear that from you, but I definitely needed to hear it. Honestly, I’m terrified of you. Or at least I was. Now I’m staring at a conspiracy to destroy everything we know and I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to fight _that_. I’m not anything great.”

“Greatness is something that needs to be earned and sometimes it’s given to someone who doesn’t want it. After Frerin…left…I just wanted to be the leader my family deserved. To just lead our company and live my life my way, hang whatever anyone else said. Now I’m an escaped mental patient hiding out in my godfather’s house, hoping I can have something to do so I’m not climbing walls while everyone else puts their necks at risk trying to stop a conspiracy or solve a mystery. I’m terrified every time someone I know walks out the door. You especially because I…I don’t want to lose anyone else. I don’t want to lose you before we’ve figured out where we stand. Especially now. I don’t know what I am to you right now and I know I’m…not all here, I suppose. The meds help, but, I’m scared and I…”

Bilbo pulled his hand away and pressed the palm to Thorin’s cheek. Thorin froze, blinking. He raised his hand to Bilbo’s, confusion etched onto his face.

“You wore me down,” Bilbo said. “I’m tired of running and I’m tired of propriety. If you’re _sure_ you want a relationship with me…”

“I do.”

Bilbo leaned forward. _I_ _must be out of my mind_ , he thought. He licked his lips and pressed them to Thorin’s mouth. He could hear the second hand clicking with each movement as he waited for Thorin to kiss him back.

Thorin’s hand was hot against his neck as he responded at last, pulling Bilbo into his lap. He was warm. Bilbo rested his hands on Thorin’s shoulders.

“About fucking time!” Frerin shouted.

Bilbo squeaked and hid his face in Thorin’s neck, feeling Thorin’s throat hummed as he growled at Frerin.

“What? It was building up and up and I was getting restless! I was ready to lock you two in a broom closet if there was even a chance it’d mean progress. I’ll get a glass of water and you two can carry on. Just…remember people sit on that thing.”

“For the ever-loving _fuck_ , Frerin,” Thorin snapped. “You’re too old to be cock blocking me!”

Bilbo laughed. He lifted his head. “We should get to bed anyway,” he said, pecking Thorin’s cheek and climbing off his lap. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Don’t stop on my account. He’s not had sex in years and had blue balls since you walked into his room at the hospital.”

“Thank you for reminding me, Frerin,” Bilbo said. “But I don’t think we’re going to get that far tonight.” Thorin sighed and stood, pulling Bilbo into another kiss.

“Tomorrow?” he asked, looking far too much like a little puppy for Bilbo’s liking.

Bilbo pressed his hands against Thorin’s chest. “We’ll see,” he said. “No promises.”

“Okay, now you’re being sickeningly sweet,” Frerin said, wrinkling his nose. “I hate it.”

“And I would prefer it if you didn’t watch,” Bilbo snapped.

“Why wouldn’t I? This is more entertaining than HBO.”

Thorin sighed. “I’ll take care of him,” he said, kissing Bilbo again. “See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight.”

Bilbo pulled away from Thorin, returning to his room.

His thoughts conflicted with each other, one side snapping at him for being so reckless and the other doing flips, whooping for joy.

_He was your patient!_

_Not anymore. He hasn’t been for a long time, if you think about it._

_You shouldn’t get involved with him!_

_Who is going to care? His brother approves._

_Will his sister_?

He supposed he’d feel guilty for it later, but for now, he was ecstatic, smiling goofily at nothing as the negatives flashing through his mind, counteracted by positive thoughts. Perhaps he had lost his mind himself in kissing Thorin. Perhaps he was mad himself.

He collapsed on the bed and stared out the window.

_Come what may, I won’t let him go through it alone._


	28. Chapter 28

_Oh my God, I kissed Thorin_ was the first lucid thought Bilbo had when he woke up, a bacon strip halfway to his mouth. Thorin and Frerin were arguing over something in the paper and Frerin was sporting a developing bruise under his eye.

“Bilbo?” Frerin asked. “You okay?”

“Huh?”

“You froze.”

“Huh,” Bilbo said. _I kissed Thorin._ He shrugged and took a bite. _And it wasn’t half bad. Tongue._ His cheeks tinged. _And I need to pull myself together before I pop a boner. Damn it, Bilbo, at least be more conflicted over this!_

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo looked at him, feeling his face redden. _Don’t look so innocent, damn it!_ He nodded. “I’m fine, I’m just still a little bit sleepy.” He took another bite of the bacon in his hand and watched Thorin’s eyes stare at his mouth.

He smiled at him, bacon still between his teeth. Thorin smirked.

“Stop flirting, God damn it!” Frerin said. “At least wait till I’m out of the room.”

“Why are you still so immature after all this time?” Thorin snapped. Bilbo took the bacon out of his mouth and laughed. “You’re supposed to be an adult!”

Frerin stuck his tongue out at him. Thorin rolled his eyes and pulled Bilbo into a kiss, delving his tongue between Bilbo’s lips.

 _Okay, I’m awake_ , he thought, responding to the kiss. Once Thorin pulled away, Frerin was glaring at them. “We’re eating breakfast, can’t you save it for _after_ you’ve brushed your teeth at least. And let me escape before you start humping each other—ow! Bilbo why?!”

“Because you’re being an ass,” he said.

“Besides, it was a bacon flavored kiss,” Thorin said. “And it was _good_.” Bilbo blushed.

“Can we not have double…meanings this early in the morning? See I’m still too tired to think.”

“Well, you _did_ finally crawl into his lap,” Frerin said. Thorin shook his head.

“It wasn’t like that!” Bilbo snapped.

“I know,” Frerin said, smirking.

“Don’t be an ass, Frerin,” Thorin said, more resigned than upset. Bilbo took another piece of bacon, leaning on the counter.

“Why are you being an ass anyway?”

“Because I’m a little brother,” Frerin said. “I don’t need much more incentive than that. Besides, I actually am rooting for the two of you. At the same time, I need to keep you two down to earth and remind you that we are trying to stop World War 3…ooh…this is gonna get ugly, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Thorin said. “I don’t like it either,” he picked up a pill bottle and removed a pill, downing them with water. “Thanks for breakfast, Frerin. I’ll be in the weight room if either of you need me.” He left, squeezing Bilbo’s hand.

“The honeymoon phase has to stop!” Frerin moaned.

“I think it’s just getting started,” Bilbo said, taking a bite out of another strip.

“Are you going to eat something other than bacon?” Frerin asked. Bilbo shrugged. “Look, I’m all for my brother getting laid and all, but—”

“No,” Bilbo said. Frerin arched a brow. “Well, not yet.”

“You’ve been together how long?”

“We were not _together_ till last night. We’re not quite…I’m not…” he sighed. “There won’t be any jumping into the sack until we’re both ready for that step in a _very new_ relationship.”

“But it will be a relationship. Not like that Nori guy?”

“Yeah—How do you know about Nori?”

Frerin smacked his lips and grinned. “I know things. And I had to get him away from you otherwise you’d never have given into Thorin’s half-crazy attempts at wooing you. I…may or may not have introduced him to someone who’d be more than just a fuck-buddy. It was better all around.”

Bilbo sighed. “I would hate you, but your brother is a fucking good kisser…when he’s not biting.” Frerin hummed. “I’m over it and he’s…”

“Tall, dark, and broody?”

“Well, yes. Was he always so broody?”

Frerin choked. “God! Don’t get me started on his teenage years. Don’t let whatever else you’ve heard fool you…I have to ask Dis or Dwalin if they still have them.”

“What?”

“Pictures. He and Dwalin had an 80’s punk rock phase.” Bilbo snorted, trying to hold back his laughter. “Complete with guyliner.” Bilbo covered his mouth, heaving for breath. “Dwalin had a Mohawk. Ripped jeans and leather everywhere.”

Bilbo shook and pressed his forehead to the counter. He really wanted to see those pictures.

“It was terrible. I mean, you’re _hipster_ style’s a bit…well.”

“Oh really, you’re going to comment on what I like to wear? What was your style back in the years that shall never be spoken?”

Frerin hummed. “I’ll get back to you on that. Coffee?”

“No thank you.” Thorin returned, mumbling about needing a water bottle.

“So,” Bilbo said, grinning at him. “80’s punk rock? Were you a fan of the Offspring?”

Thorin blinked at him before glaring at Frerin. “Actually I preferred the Cure,” he said, filling up the bottle. “But I did listen to the Offspring.”

“Still do, I bet,” Frerin said. Thorin shoved him.

“I want to see pictures!” Bilbo shouted.

“You will never find them!” Thorin said, retreating.

“I bet Dis has!” Frerin called after him.

“Doubtful!”

They waited for the door to the weight room (and Bilbo still hadn’t had a chance to ask Gandalf about that…) to close before glancing at each other. “I bet she found them,” Frerin said.

“Seems like something she’d do. Or at least her boys.”

Frerin snorted. “Dwalin would probably know where they were. Or he has copies.” Bilbo shrugged. Frerin retreated from the kitchen. “Well, I’m off. Don’t do naughty things in public places.”

“You’re incorrigible!” Bilbo snapped. He didn’t receive an answer for that. Instead, he heard another door close and sighed, leaning on the counter again. He wanted to see those pictures. Young, pimply Thorin with guyliner! That should not sound as precious as it does.

He’d ask Dis about them when he saw her next. Instead, he finished a final bacon strip and decided to watch the news, wrapped up in one of the blankets.

“ _…trial will take place in three days from now. Yesterday, Smaug Azugâl was arrested for multiple charges…_ ” Bilbo sighed.  There had to be something else on—“ _…Head of Mordor Inc and Heir to the Melkor Corporation, Sauron Gauthar, released a press statement early this morning…_ ”

Bilbo sat up.

Sauron’s handsome face was morphed into a solemn mask, both serious and sorrowful. “ _We of the Melkor Corporation were unaware of both Mr. Azugâl’s transgressions and Mr. Gundebad’s. It is regretful when such things are revealed and my deepest sympathies go to the Oakenshield-Durin family._ ”

Bilbo stood and went to the weight room. “Thorin!” Thorin glanced up, barbell held tightly above his chest. “You need to see this.”

“Now?”

“Yes! Now! It might not show up again.” Thorin looked confused, but he set down the barbell on the rack and followed him.

“ _…As a token of our apology to the Oakenshield-Durin family, I have decided to give them the Moria Asylum. Given the horrors I am sure Mr. Oakenshield endured there, it is not much of apology, but they may do what they will with the hospital._ ”

Thorin pressed his hands into the table, glaring at the screen.

“This isn’t good, is it?”

“No. It’d be interesting to see what happens.”

“What would you do?” Bilbo asked.

Thorin swallowed. “I’d keep it as it is, maybe reform the staff, get rid of those who…” He silenced, closed his eyes, and took a breath. Bilbo touched his shoulder and Thorin looked at him.

“You know the orderlies weren’t trying hurt you, right?”

“I know,” he said. “That doesn’t mean there weren’t any nurses there who didn’t hurt other patients purposefully. C’mon, you can’t be that ignorant of some of the things going on in there.”

“Like what?”

“If you didn’t know, I’m not going to tell you,” Thorin said. “Better that way, I suppose.”

“I never knew any orderlies that hurt the patients, Thorin. Except you, but…we weren’t trying to hurt you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know. One tried, though. I snapped his neck and stabbed him with a knife I stole from the kitchens. They almost convinced Azog to send me somewhere else because I was too dangerous. Honestly I’m more worried about Sméagol.”

“Why?”

“He only attacks when he knows he has a chance. All in all, he’s not a bad guy. Obsession with that ring aside.”

“Was he not being medicated also?”

“No, he was. I think so. He’s just not able to defend himself from bigger numbers and he just…he’s mostly harmless.” Dis appeared on the screen, accepting Sauron’s offer for Moria.

“He mentioned a master once. Did he say anything about that to you?”

“No. First time I’ve heard of it. That’s rather Renfield, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Which makes me wonder: who’s Dracula in this tale. I don’t think it’s Azog.”

“Neither do I, so now what? I don’t think she’d want you back there even if it is safe.”

“I wouldn’t go back even if she did. I mean, if it’s safe to go back home or to work, I’d need to have a psych evaluation first, just to make sure.”

“I think you’ll do fine. You take your meds without needing to be prompted anymore. You work out. You eat relatively healthy. I don’t think they’ll have a problem with you returning to work. I just wonder what changes will be made at Moria.”

“Many. Knowing her. She’ll screen every employee. My sister’s very protective. Very motherly, no one will get away with the shit they used to.”

“What now? You’re free?”

“No, free to leave this house. Go home to my sister and her family, but, no. Freedom’s still a long way off. I mean, they still want you dead. They’re going to want all of us dead. This…parley is a ruse.”

Bilbo sighed. “We’ll stop them, Thorin. You know that. Right?”

“Of course we will,” Thorin said. “Can’t let them start World War 3 after all.” He walked away and Bilbo turned off the television. He leaned on the couch and groaned.

How did this get so complicated?


	29. Chapter 29

Thorin was going back to Erebor Tech today with Dis and Frerin.

It would be Frerin who got the limelight, though, given he rose from the grave. When Bilbo asked how Thorin felt about that, he shrugged and said that Frerin was better with the press than he was. Besides, they’d be curious as to how he could be sane again. Several theories involved recreational drugs, all of which made Bilbo scoff. Mental illness was _not_ easy to fake and Thorin wasn’t likely to give into drugs despite the truth of what had really happened spreading.

It was a matter of _who_ believed it.

“Ready to go in.”

“No,” Thorin said.

Bilbo took his hand. “Thorin, I’m here, all right? No one is going to do anything to you. It’s just a routine psych eval. After this, they can do it at home or the office, wherever you feel more comfortable. You just have to go in one last time. After this you’ll never have to come back.”

Thorin looked at him and swallowed. “Last time?”

Bilbo nodded and released Thorin’s hand walking into the building. He glanced at Thorin, who sucked in a breath and approached the doors.

He was walking with ease toward Balin. Bilbo’s coworkers stared, some of whom were contrite (several of Bilbo’s friends being among them), but everyone who saw Thorin was startled.

“Thorin, thank you for coming,” Balin said, shaking his hand.

“Apologies for my haste, Balin, but could we just get this over with?”

“Of course, I understand. I wouldn’t want to stay longer than necessary either if I was in your shoes.” Thorin glanced at Bilbo for a moment before disappearing down the hall.

“Was he really not being medicated while here?” Blotaz asked.

“CSI said we were giving him sugar water,” Lurtz muttered. “So it’s true.”

“You don’t think we’ll be charged as accomplices. Can they do that if you didn’t know?”

Bilbo ignored them. He didn’t know what to say.  _I knew for a while, long before the investigation_ , was only going to cause more questions and ones he didn’t want to answer.

Blotaz leaned against him. “If he gets out of here, you think you’ll start dating him?”

“Why do you ask?”

Blotaz smirked and elbowed Bilbo. “I saw the way he looked at you. Even if he’s being medicated now, he’s definitely still got his eyes on you.”

“Well, we’ll see,” Bilbo said, “Are we still on D block?”

“Yeah, for now,” Blotaz said. “New boss means new regimen. He’s going to do evaluations on everyone. Staff and patients, make sure everyone here is supposed to be here.”

“Sounds like a good safety measure.”

“Yeah, but if a staff patient has a bit of a violent streak, he or she will get the boot. Not that that’s a bad thing, you know, but some of the people who work here are here because Azog decided to give them a chance. I don’t think any of us knew he was a rapist or would be so careless as to keep a guy terrified and untreated to keep it secret…”

“I don’t think anyone would expect someone they knew to be capable of something so evil,” Bilbo said, pushing the cart to D Wing’s door.

#

 “So Thorin,” Frerin said, wrapping his arm around Thorin’s shoulders. “How does it feel to be a free man? Good?”

“You should know,” he said, clinking his coke can with Frerin’s beer bottle. “How does it feel to be back from the dead?” Kili barreled into Frerin’s leg and Frerin lifted him up onto his shoulder. Kili squealed, laughing. Bilbo sat a fair distance from the family, wondering why he was here.

Thorin glanced in his direction and excused himself after shaking another relative’s hand. “Enjoying yourself?” 

“Does it look like it?” Bilbo asked.

“No,” Thorin said, sitting across from him. “You look like a fish out of water.”

“I feel like a fish out of water. This isn’t…it’s not my family and I feel weird being here. I just…I don’t know what will happen next.”

“Gandalf will blow something up and nearly set fire to the neighborhood,” Thorin said.

Bilbo snorted. “Sounds about right, meaning cops will be showing up.”

“Neighbors will be pissed.”

“Yeah,” Bilbo said. “I still wonder to this day how he gets away with it. Let alone _where_ he gets the fireworks.”

Thorin shrugged.  He took Bilbo’s hand.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For doing something. I’d still be trapped there if you didn’t realize something was wrong.”

“I didn’t. Gandalf did.”

“Then thank you for listening to him,” Thorin said.

“Are you happy to go back to work?”

“Not particularly. Coming home, on the other hand, yeah. I’m glad to be back. What about you? Going to start going back to school in person?”

“Nope. I already signed up for more online classes. I will need to get back _to_ going to school in person, though. Eventually. But right now, stopping WW3 is more important.”

“True.” Thorin stood. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

“I’m not sure—”

“You’re staying here. We’ve plenty of room and I’d rather not have Gandalf looming over me just to make sure I don’t do anything I shouldn’t. Besides, why be a wallflower when you don’t have to. No one here bites.” Bilbo arched a brow at him. “Intentionally…you’re never going to let me live that down.”

“You nearly ripped my lip off!”

“Stop exaggerating, will you? You’re lip is wonderfully intact,” Thorin said.

“Fine, I let it go a long time ago anyway. It’s just fun to give you grief.”

He grinned cheekily at Thorin, who wrapped his arm around Bilbo’s shoulder.

They stepped out onto the porch. Dis coughed and Dwalin and Frerin grinned evilly. Bilbo hoped he’d not have to worry about Thorin’s brother and in-law causing them trouble. Thorin steered him from person to person, introducing him to the various, loud and quite possibly obnoxious relatives and family friends. There weren’t many children—just Fili, Kili, and little cousin wobbling around on his still quite chubby legs given the name Gimli, and a boy about Fili’s age named Thorin as well.

“It’s a family name,” Thorin said, shrugging.

“Oi! Bilbo! Get over here and show us how well you hold your liquor,” Gimli’s father bellowed, smirking.

“Should I?”

“Have fun for me. Or am I allowed to join in?”

“I still don’t think that’d be wise,” Bilbo said.

“Drink enough for me, then,” Thorin said, sighing as Gimli approached him and tugged on his pants, whining. He lifted the babe up. “I’m going to find Gimli’s mother.”

“You do that,” Bilbo said, smirking back at him as he approached the table full of men and copious alcohols from hard lemonade to whiskey.

He grinned. “So, someone’s issuing a challenge?”

“That would be me, Puny,” Gloin said, smirking at him.

“I’m part Irish,” Bilbo warned, sitting down. “So don’t go crying when I’ve beaten you.”

“English runt, I’ll make you eat your words!”

“This ‘English runt’ didn’t through any gauntlets,” Bilbo said, grabbing a beer, and popping the top off. “Last one standing wins.”

“You’re on, Shorty!”

 _Like you’re one to talk_ , Bilbo thought, already downing his first beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the shortness of this chapter.
> 
> I swear we'll get back to the plot! There's just too many fillers, I know! I'm sorry!


	30. Chapter 30

Bilbo felt nearly bent in half as he peered at the textbook resting on his lap and tried to adjust it so that there wouldn’t be so much of a glare shining off the pages. He massaged his head, wondering if he should take a short break or not.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Bilbo said, tapping the page where he left off so not to forget, and pushed the book off his lap as the door opened. Thorin stood in the doorway and Bilbo grinned. “Not seen you for a while.”

“Dis is rather efficient enough to run the company on her own, but with Frerin and me, she’s able to spend more time at home. I swear that’s the only reason she brought us back on.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily. After all, I am pushing everything I need to do Friday evening on her and Frerin so that the two of us could go to dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“And maybe to an art museum nearby.”

Bilbo crossed his arms. “You took time off to take me on a date I’ve technically not agreed to yet, assuming that I would say yes anyway.”

Thorin hummed and leaned against the door. “That might’ve been a little presumptuous of me.”

“Yeah, just a little,” Bilbo agreed. "Thankfully, I don’t work Friday.”

“That might’ve been me too.”

“Thorin, you can’t just mess with my schedule like that.”

“Considering that Moria is now owned by my family, I kind of can…but I won’t do it again.”

“Okay. Well…considering the other times we’ve been together were either trapped in a house or at the hospital, it would be nice to go somewhere nice like normal people.”

“We’re Gandalf’s secret agents and we’re fighting a group of nutjobs trying to destroy the world in order to recreate it. To add to that, I’m a multi-millionaire schizophrenic and your grandfather’s a wealthy general in the Queen of England’s army and probably one of the most eccentric men I’ve ever met.”

“When did you meet my grandfather?” Bilbo asked, furrowing his brow. Thorin stepped further in and joined him on the bed. “When I was a teenager. We were invited to your mom’s engagement party, I think.”

“Don’t mention that! I don’t want to be reminded of the age gap between us! You’re so lucky you don’t look your age! Otherwise I don’t…”

“I am not that old! I’m forty-two.”

“I’m just going to shut up, then. So, you met my parents.”

“Yeah, I didn’t expect to ever meet them again, let alone ever meet you. Forget fall in love with you. I was about sixteen and I always knew I was different because of my sexuality, but I had tried to repress it because of my grandfather and my father. You did the research, you know that when I came out there was a lot of opinions about that, very strong ones. Especially from my family. When I came out, they tried to pass it off as a phase, but I’ve known I liked men, well boys at the time, when I was six. I kept it hidden because I didn’t want my family to send me to a mental hospital because of it, so I repressed it. I was often uptight and I was often angry, especially when I was a teenager. It was actually your mom who was the first person I told. I didn’t even need to tell her, she could just…tell. She had a gay uncle, and a couple friend who were gay and she just knew. She told me that coming out could help me on multiple levels. She even asked which guys around my age attending the party I thought were hot.”

Bilbo winced. “Is it too late to apologize for that?”

“Yeah. I think it is. Overall, she told me not to be afraid of who I was. The world won’t like it, but I shouldn’t care what the world thinks because it’s screwed up. It’s my life and I should do what I want with it. And if that means dating and falling in love with other guys, so be it. What she told me saved me in a way. Just as you did. True, they were different dilemmas, but I still needed to be saved, be it from the psychological prison I had built in my mind or the physical prison I was trapped in.”

Bilbo licked his lips and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked at Thorin. “Honestly, when I realized I was gay, my grandparents were very much the same way as my mom was when she met you. I realized I was gay when I was ten because I fell in love with a boy in my class and when I told him, he called me a freak and a number of other things. My grandparents were furious with the school I was going to because they did nothing about it and I transferred to another school soon after, but they assured me there was nothing wrong with me, that I wasn’t anything that kid told me. They told me if I liked guys, then that was okay. They loved me regardless, my parents loved me regardless. And if being with men made me happy, then what more could they ask?”

Thorin took his hand in his and squeezed it gently. Bilbo swallowed, making a note to get a drink of water soon. “So, um, Friday, yeah,” Bilbo said. “Since I have the night off anyway and I don’t see why we shouldn’t go to dinner.”

Thorin beamed.

“But nothing fancy. I don’t really have any clothes for that.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, kissing him. “Semi-formal at best. I can’t stand fancy places anyway. And I figured you were the same.”

“You thought right,” Bilbo said. “Less because of stuffiness and more because of embarrassment. Now I do have a story behind that, but I’m not telling you more because I do have to get back to this. I have an assignment due tonight and I’d rather get it in sooner rather than later.”

“Fine. But I want to know this embarrassing story.”

“So long as I can get my hands on your 80’s punk pictures.”

“Strangely, I’m okay with you seeing those. I just don’t want Frerin getting his hands on them.”

“Would it matter?”

“Do you have siblings?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t understand how all of those pictures are potentially blackmail material.”

Bilbo arched a brow. “They wouldn’t do that.”

“They would. Frerin especially. It’s his lot in life as a little brother.”

“Says you.” Bilbo kissed his cheek. “Doesn’t matter what your siblings will do. I still want to see those pictures. All the ones I’ve found of you so far were you in business suits and the most I know about you’re appearance back then is that you had some gangly limbs and tied your hair back in a ponytail.”

“Fine, I will find the pictures and I’ll explain the ponytail. But I really should let you get back to your homework.”

“Yes, you should.” Thorin kissed him gently and walked away.

Bilbo inhaled and looked at his text book, wondering why he had put this off to the last minute before shifting his position and brought the book closer to him. He wrinkled his nose.

_Why can’t it be Friday already?_

#

“ _Thank you for calling Oderquelle,_ ” the host recited, giving his name. “ _How may I be of assistance?_ ”

Thorin cleared his throat. “I’d like to make a reservation for Friday at seven.”

“ _Excellent, Sir. How many in your party?_ ”

“Two for Oakenshield.” Someone knocked on his door and he looked at Dis.

“ _All right, Sir. We’ll see you Friday._ ”

“Thank you. Bye.” He hung up and turned to Dis. “Yeah?”

“We need to talk,” she said, crossing her arms. “About Bilbo.”

Thorin arched a brow at her, meeting her stern gaze with his own. “What about him?”

“I’ve nothing against him. He’s very sweet and I really do like him, but I don’t think it would be wise for either of you to have a relationship outside a professional one. Thorin he was your doctor.”

“He was, and is, an orderly. A nurse. He had no sway over my medication. If he did, I’d have been out of Moria sooner.”

 “It’s still far too similar for my liking. Thorin, if I didn’t know him or you, I’d want him in prison for this.” Thorin sucked in a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is he even aware how dangerous your relationship could get—”

“He is very aware, Dis. I fail to see how it matters.” He leaned forward. “I pushed for this. I loved him as soon as I met him. I swear, Dis, leave it alone.”

“Thorin, I don’t want that to happen. He seemed so professional when I met him. So what if you fell in love with him? If it gets out that you and he are a couple and met when he was a nurse at the hospital where you lived for three, four years, his career and his life could be ruined. Did you think of that?”

“So what do you want me to do?” He stood and approached his sister, leaning close in, glaring at her. “Let him go? I won’t. It took me a very long time to win his trust. I’m not losing it now because you say you’re concerned. Dis, I never had anything against you marrying Víli. Nor did I have a problem with you marrying Dwalin.”

“You knew them, though. That’s different.”

“And you _don’t_ know Bilbo. I do. Frerin and Gandalf do. You only met him enough times to know you like him, but you do not well enough to judge him.”

“I don’t want to see you hurt, and I have seen you with him. Anything that hurts him might very well hurt you and your wellbeing is my responsibility.”

“Last I checked, you were my _younger_ sister. I don’t care if you’re a mother, I don’t care if you’re worried about me. I can take care of myself. I can make decisions for myself. My love life—”

“Was in the public’s eye before. It will be again and Bilbo might suffer for it, and by default so will you, Thorin. He is not worth the heartache you’re going to go through.”

Thorin pushed her out. “If it comes to that, Bilbo and I will deal with it.”

“Thorin it’s been a long time since you’ve been with someone and I am convinced Bilbo’s integrity is genuine, but I don’t want to see you hurt!”

“Dis, I’ve had my heart broken before. I think I can handle it.”

“Not this time! Like I said, I know the look you send him. They may have accepted that you’re gay, but they’re not going to accept you being with a nurse who worked at the hospital you were a patient at.”

“And there we are!” Thorin shouted, “The real reason you don’t want me to be with him: the press! Anything to keep Erebor Tech on the people’s good side! Even someone’s private life can ruin the company’s reputation now a-days! The company will survive if I date a man who worked where I was imprisoned. One word from me and Bilbo won’t be the villain anymore. If anyone tries to ruin him, they will contend to me. _I_ fell in love with him. _I_ am not there anymore. _I_ will bear the responsibility if anyone finds out that Bilbo works at Moria and I will tell them the truth: he didn’t do anything wrong and no one knows the story as well as he and I do. I don’t care if you’re my sister. You say anything to him about this and I swear to God, I will ruin you.”

He closed the door in Dis’ face and leaned against it, hoping to calm down. He shook his head. Dis knew his threat was as empty as he did. But the risk, if it was real…

 _He’s worth it_ , he told himself. _I have to believe he’s worth it._

Thorin sighed, wondering if Bilbo, when it came to it, would think the same.


	31. Chapter 31

Dinner had been nice, if Bilbo said so himself.

They bantered back and forth over what to get. It wasn’t his fault. Thorin refused to recommend anything even though he’d been there before—or so he claimed—and in the end, Thorin convinced him to have a three course meal.

Bilbo couldn’t really say he wasn’t disappointed.

Beginning with the black salsify cream soup, then the roast pork in black beer sauce (that had not disappointed, if Bilbo had anything to say), and ended with a dessert of apple strudels with vanilla ice.

The host grinned at them, probably more interested in the money Thorin spent than whom the money came from. Bilbo thought nothing on it: they weren’t likely to see the guy again and if they did, he doubted they’d be remembered.

“So?” Thorin asked, wrapping an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders. “How am I doing so far?”

“Dinner wasn’t too bad.”

“Just ‘not too bad’?” Thorin asked.

“I ate the food, didn’t I?” Bilbo retorted, nudging his elbows into Thorin’s ribs.

Thorin moved his hand to the back of Bilbo’s neck, pulling him close to kiss him.

“And that was…”

“Because I love you,” Thorin said. “Need I any other reason to kiss you? Or do you not want me to?”

Bilbo blinked. “No, of course I want you to, it was just a bit unexpected, that’s all.” He took Thorin’s hand in his. “Unexpected isn’t always bad, though,” he said. “So what’s next? Or did you only ever get as far as a dinner planned out?”

“You wound me,” Thorin said, rolling his eyes.

Bilbo grinned and squeezed his hand.

“Then what else is there for tonight?” he asked, grinning.

Thorin pulled led him down the street to a dark building. A man stood outside, checking his watch.

“I’m quite sure we’re not _that_ late,” Thorin called to him.

“Only by a couple minutes, Mr. Oakenshield,” he said, looking up from his watch. “I’d hardly count it as late.” He opened the door and let them in. “Remember you’ve a couple hours before the alarm sets.”

Thorin thanked him and the door closed.

“Alarm?” Bilbo asked. He looked at Thorin. “Did you…”

“Pull a few strings? Maybe.”

“Is this place supposed to be closed right now? Thorin—”

“Relax,” Thorin said, leading him deeper into the cold and dark gallery.

It wasn’t large, per say, but the shadows still cast an eerie glow even with the light chasing the darkness away.

Thorin let go of Bilbo’s hand and approached an outlet, plugged in a music player and pressed play. Bilbo pretended not to notice Thorin’s slight struggle with the new technology.

He was about to offer his help when music started to play.

Bilbo furrowed his brow, recognizing the song.

“Since when did you listen to _The Art of Dying_?”

“I don’t. Frerin suggested it.” He held his hands out. “Will you dance with me?”

Bilbo hummed. He nodded and took Thorin’s hands, letting himself be pulled into Thorin’s arms and led to the beat.

_I keep falling in love with you every day_

_You’re the one that I knew I’d find_

_And every moment we spend is a way_

_This love’s for life…_

“You’re tense.”

“Cameras,” Bilbo said.

“So?” Thorin asked, grinning. “Let them watch. We’re just dancing.”

“Alone. In a _closed_ art gallery.”

“Is it too uncomfortable for you?” Thorin asked. “We don’t have to stay the whole two hours.”

The song ended and changed to another. They continued to sway.

“It’s not that, I just…I’ve not really…”

“Done anything like this?”

“Yes.”

_I need you like the sun needs the rain._

_Can’t think of any better way to say I need you._

_Say you need me too. Who needs you?_

_Baby, I need you._

Thorin spun him around.

“That’s all right,” he said, wrapping his arms around Bilbo’s torso and resting his head on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Have I at least outdone anyone you’ve been with before?”

“Well no one ever did this before,” Bilbo admitted. “Dancing in an art gallery we…paid our way to staying here after hours?”

“Sounds about right,” Thorin said, grinning.

The pause between songs felt a little longer, his arms a little tighter. Bilbo took his hands in his, turning around.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

_Howling ghost they reappear_

_In mountains that are stacked with fear_

_But you’re a king and I’m a lionheart…_

“Lots of things that I shouldn’t let bother me right now. I was hoping they’d not haunt me, but it seems I am still unable to focus on what I want to.”

Bilbo hummed, wrapping his arms around Thorin’s neck and Thorin placed his hands on Bilbo’s waist.

“About Sauron and the Melkor Corporation?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“It’s on my mind, too,” Bilbo said, sliding a hand to cup Thorin’s cheek. Thorin pressed against the warmth radiating from Bilbo’s hand.

“All I want is to just want to get through the next couple years of school and work and…all in all, it’s been a lot to take in and too much for one person to go through alone. But, you know, you’re not alone anymore, Thorin. We both got roped into this, so don’t feel like you have to carry the weight of it alone.”

Thorin’s grip on his hips tightened and he pulled Bilbo as close as he could, pressing his lips to Bilbo’s. Bilbo answered the kiss, threading his fingers in Thorin’s hair and nipped Thorin’s lower lip, gently sucking on the lower lip. Thorin growled low in his throat and pushed him back against the wall, wedging his knee between Bilbo’s legs. Bilbo gasped and broke the kiss, flinching away.

Thorin stared at him a moment before letting go. “Too much?”

Bilbo nodded, averting his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Thorin said, retrieving the player and turning it off. “I shouldn’t have…”

“Thorin, look, I do love you, I’m sure of that but at the same time, I’m…”

“Scared?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo looked at him, wishing he didn’t look so broken.

“Are you still scared of me, Bilbo? I thought I got better. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“It is. And you have. I just—I do love you, and I’m scared of who you _were_ before. But I’m…I’m not…”

“What? You flinched away again. I—I won’t hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you. I love you with all my heart, Bilbo. So why is it so hard to believe me? Is there something I don’t remember doing to you before I was medicated? Have I…” He swallowed. “Am I too hard to love?”

Bilbo shook his head. “It’s not that at all. Thorin, I wasn’t expecting it.”

“And the last time was in a fucking supply closet,” Thorin snapped.

“That was different! We both know that. Thorin, I didn’t mean to shun you.”

“Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes, blood boiling. Why was he taking offense? Why was he angry? “I am _not_ scared of you, Thorin. And I am not pretending to love you. You’re reading too much into a little hesitancy.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. You are. You were volatile before. You were obsessed with me and as far as I know you still are and as much as I love you, I don’t know if this is even a good idea! Likely not, but I’m here anyway, aren’t I? I’m falling in love with you, slowly but surely and if you think it’s taking too long for me to return your feelings, then I’m _sorry_ , but if you’ve forgotten, I was terrified of you before and no matter what Frerin and others who know about us think, I’m still terrified that what I feel isn’t even _real_!”

“Like Stockholm?”

“Exactly!”

Thorin’s face smoothed out and he took a breath. “Bilbo, I would never hurt you intentionally. You and I both know Stockholm Syndrome isn’t real affection and I never hurt you for the sake of it. I was, and still am, desperate for you.” He swallowed again, staring at his hands. “Why do you taunt me so much? I can’t bear it, Bilbo. So yeah, maybe I’m still obsessed with you, but I…I’d die for you.”

“I’m not worth dying for!”

“You are worth it to me.”

“That’s not healthy, Thorin.”

“I don’t care.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the restaurant website: http://www.oderquelle.de/#  
> And the menu: http://www.oderquelle.de/htms/Tageskarte.htm.  
> Not much in the way of food porn, I know…
> 
> Songs:  
> Art of Dying-Falling  
> Saving Abel-I Need You  
> Of Monsters and Men-King and Lionheart


	32. Chapter 32

_He swallowed again, staring at his hands. “Why do you taunt me so much? I can’t bear it, Bilbo. So yeah, maybe I’m still obsessed with you, but I…I’d die for you.”_

_“I’m not worth dying for!”_

_“You are worth it to me.”_

_“That’s not healthy, Thorin.”_

_“I don’t care.”_

Bilbo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

“I don’t want you to die for me. Personally, I think that would be selfish, Thorin, for several reasons. You have a family who loves you just as much as I do and they just got you back with them. As for that ‘taunting’ jibe, I don’t know what you mean by that. I _flinched_. I am _trying_ to overcome a fear that’d been dogging me for months when it came to you and I think I’ve improved quite a bit since then. If you’re expecting me to just stop being afraid that you might do something—and I know it wouldn’t be intentional—then I’m sorry. Nobody can change their opinions of another person that fast in such a short amount of time. For now, a part of me is still afraid of you and I am trying to overcome it. I’m sorry if I hurt you somehow. I didn’t mean to.”

Thorin looked at his watch. “We should probably go.” He glanced at Bilbo. “But you’re certain you’re okay being alone with me?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “I’m certain.”

Thorin nodded, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets.

Bilbo approached him and kissed him. “We’ll go slower, okay? I understand you’re frustrated. I would be frustrated, too. But just a little slower than…whatever pace we’re going at.”

Thorin ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s go home.” He packed the player and reached for Bilbo’s hand. Bilbo took it, giving it a firm squeeze.

He wanted to reassure Thorin he did love him, that he was all right, and that he was comfortable with being alone with him. Bilbo wished they met under different circumstances.

Perhaps then…

 _No point thinking about it_ , he reminded himself. No one could change the past.

“Thorin, despite what you think, I did have a lot of fun tonight,” he said as they returned to the car. “So please don’t let tonight be about our fight.”

Thorin glanced at him and Bilbo offered him a gentle smile. Thorin leaned down and pressed his lips to Bilbo’s. The frenzy of their last kiss had startled Bilbo, but this one was gentle and chaste, almost leaving him a little weak kneed.

Thorin pulled away before it got anywhere close to knee-busting and opened the door for Bilbo.

“Should I walk you to the door and shake Gandalf’s hand since I can’t introduce myself to your grandparents just yet?” Thorin teased.

Bilbo snorted and smacked his chest. “If you ever did, you’d be in for twenty rounds of shovel talks. My family’s huge. Personally, just save yourself the trouble and focus on winning over my grandmothers. At least that way, you’ll have a chance.”

“Ah. I see. I’ll keep that in mind,” Thorin said.

#

“How do we lose our stock overnight?!” Dis shrieked into her phone as Bilbo entered the room. Her sons were hiding in the living room, watching her with fear. Angry mothers are never to be crossed. “We were _fine_ until this morning! Do what you must, but I _want_ answers!”

She hung up and slammed her phone against the table.

“Dare I ask?” Thorin said, coming in behind Bilbo.

“You know the stock we have in the company?” Dis said, “It’s gone. Someone bought our shares last night and we’ve yet to know who.”

“Is that bad?” Kili asked.

“Yes, sweetie, it’s bad,” Dis said, drumming her fingers against the desk. She massaged her forehead and bit her lip.

“Dis, if you like, I can make the boys breakfast,” Bilbo offered.

Dis nodded and sat down, holding her head in her hands, hair canopying her face.

“Where’s Dwalin?”

“Already at work with Frerin. We got the call in early and they went to the office to begin investigating. I was just yelling at the bank. This has Melkor written all over it, I’m sure.”

Thorin massaged her shoulders. “It’s not the end of the world,” he said. “It’s not like they’ve not tried destroying us before and that is considering it _is_ Melkor.”

Dis sighed. “How was that date.”

Bilbo and Thorin exchanged glances.

“Not bad,” Thorin said.

“Pretty good.”

“Vocal you two are.”

“So that means you’re going to let our discussion go?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo furrowed his brow and Thorin grinned at him.

“I never said that I would,” Dis said. “You at least should take precautions.”

“Thorin what is she talking about?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Dis said.

“You will not say anything,” Thorin snapped.

Dis grinned. “You are so cute thinking you can tell me what to do.”

“I know where you sleep, Woman.”

“I wonder what my army vet husband will say to that?” Dis asked, smirking.

“I’m army vet too!!”

“Don’t care,” Dis said. Thorin glared at her. “I love you.”

“No you don’t. You want to see me suffer.”

“It never gets old.”

Thorin groaned and turned to Bilbo. “You are so lucky you don’t have siblings.”

“I don’t know, I happen to like your sister quite a bit. And you could tell me what you and she are ‘discussing’ and save her the trouble.”

Dis turned to him. “That’s very true.”

“There is nothing to discuss!”

“For now, though, I really prefer to focus on getting our money back before we hit rock bottom. So if you or Bilbo wouldn’t mind taking the boys to school, that’d save me some time.”

“Sure,” Bilbo said.

Dis thanked him and grabbed a pear before standing. She kissed her sons goodbye and fled, heals clacking on the floor, to her car.

Bilbo turned to Thorin. “So, this thing you’re discussing with your sister…what is it about? Us?”

Thorin fidgeted, refusing to look at Bilbo and staring at a spot on the table.

“Thorin,” Bilbo said. “I’d like to know.”

“Fine,” Thorin said. “But can it wait till the boys are at school.”

“No,” Fili said.

“We wanna know too!” Kili added.

“Besides, this sounds like it’ll be entertaining.”

Thorin glared at his nephews, who beamed back at him.

“You get your sadism from your mother,” he sneered. Bilbo cleared his throat. Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at Bilbo. “Dis says she’s concerned about who you are getting out and what our relationship could do to your potential career, given our former professional relationship.”

“You mean the doctor/patient thing.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not unfounded,” Bilbo said. “And I’ll be honest, it worried me too. Not that often, but yeah, she is right. I’m taking a risk dating you, but…you’re better, and I’m not your doctor or nurse anymore so…” he shrugged. “I’m sorry if what she said upsets you, Thorin, but it is still my decision and I love you, so…let them come. After this conspiracy, the press is nothing.”

“You’re not mad at her? Or me?”

“Miffed that you didn’t tell me sooner, but no,” Bilbo said. “I’m not mad. I love you. And loving you is risky anyway, Mr. Billionaire. I’m going to get camera’s stuck in my face anyway at some time.”

“Point taken,” Thorin said.

“Are you guys gonna kiss now?” Kili asked.

“If so, a bit of warning would be nice,” Fili asked. “So that we can get a garbage can ready, you know.”

Thorin glared at them and Bilbo shook his head. “They’re your nephews.”

“The darkness in them is their mother’s. Completely.”

“I’m sure it is,” Bilbo said. “Now I should get back to making breakfast and you two,” he turned to Fili and Kili, “best get ready for school.”

They groaned, but did as they were told. Thorin looked at Bilbo, eyes wide.

“How did you do that?”

Bilbo shrugged. “They like me, I guess,” he said, grinning. “And since they’re out of the room,” he wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck. “We don’t have to worry about vomit.”

“That is not as funny as you think.”

“Yet you’re still laughing,” Bilbo pointed out, pecking his lips. “And I should get back to the bacon before it burns.”

“Ooh. Yeah. No one here like burned meat of any kind. Bacon especially.”

Bilbo snorted and broke their embrace, turning back to the stove. Eggs, bacon…it was missing something…

Fruit! “Thorin could you cut up the oranges please?”

“Yes, dear.”


	33. Chapter 33

The following days were spent in chaos as he helped Frerin, Dis, and Thorin track down who bought their shares. Fili and Kili were left as far out of the loop as they could get them, but the boys were smart, they knew what was going on despite Dis’ constant _don’t worry about it_ followed by a kiss to their foreheads.

“Found him,” Thorin said. “An Ar-Pharazôn Nimloth had someone hack into our account and managed to get approved to buy our stocks. And, uh, guess what? He’s the CEO of Numenor Oil Company.”

“And that’s tied to Melkor?” Dis asked.

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “They are. But I know that there’s a couple companies that were started by Ar- Pharazôn’s son, Elendil Nimloth: Gondor Incorporated and Dunedain Security Company.”

“I’ve heard of Dunedain,” Frerin said. “Best rent-a-cop company in Eastern Europe. They’ve protected presidents, royalty, CEOs. You probably met some of them, Bilbo.”

“Doubtful, my grandfather never liked hiring a guy to protect him or his family. He always preferred to do that himself if need be.”

“Really. Aren’t you guys rich?”

“Yeah, but we don’t act it,” Bilbo said. “Sometimes we’ll throw a nice party, but my grandfather moved out of the big house—he had a lot of kids with gran—and into a smaller one once they moved out. The still own the big house…but only for special occasions. Like Christmas.” They stared at him. “I’ll just shut up.”

“And I will contact Mr. Elendil,” Dis said. “I’m not sure if I can convince his father to give our money back, but his son might be willing to help if they aren’t on Melkor’s side.”

“I’ve not seen Gondor on the list of subsidiaries to the Melkor Corporation. And Gondor and Dunedain are not a part of Numenor,” Bilbo said. “Completely separate.”

“Well, I’ll arrange a meeting with him, then. Cross your fingers, maybe he’ll help us,” Dis said.

Bilbo nodded. “I’ll call my grandfather, see what he can do—”

“Don’t involve him,” Thorin said. “He already knows you’re in our group, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe that’s the most he should know.”

“He’s known Gandalf his whole life. It’s likely not his first ball or whatever, he might know what to do and maybe even help.”

“Let’s clear it with Gandalf first,” Frerin said. “He knows better than us. Not that we don’t trust your grandfather or anything like that.”

“I understand,” Bilbo said. Thorin wrapped his arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. “I’ll send him an e-mail later.”

“Good, Thorin, Frerin, we should go.”

Frerin huffed. “No rest for the weary,” he said.

“You just don’t want to work,” Thorin said, kissing Bilbo’s cheek again. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Till then,” Bilbo agreed.

“Dis! They’re being cute! I can’t take it!” Frerin shouted, leaving the room. Thorin glared at him and Bilbo laughed, pulling himself free of Thorin’s embrace and kissed him.

“Be safe.”

“Same to you.” Thorin followed his brother, shouting at him in quick, guttural, and furiously. Bilbo leaned against the table and looked around. It was often too quiet.

#

“ _It isn’t every day, I get a call from a gorgeous woman_ ,” the man on the other end of the line said. Dis glanced at Dwalin, who was glaring at the phone box. Her brothers were either trying not to laugh or hiding his face in his hand, shaking his head. “ _So how can I be of assistance Mrs. Durin?_ ”

“You can start by remembering the _Mrs_ part,” Dwalin snapped.

Dis slapped his arm. “Behave, Honey. Mr. Nimloth, you might have heard of my company’s recent…financial troubles.”

“ _And you want my help? I’m not sure I can…_ ”

“We have reason to believe we were robbed by the Numenor Oil Company,” Thorin said. For a moment, there was silence.

“ _And that changes everything,_ ” Elendil said, his tone shifting from cordial to serious. “ _I’ve heard of your recent…attacks from different companies. From the scandal with Smaug and what happened at the Moria Mental Hospital. I guess it was a matter of time until my father struck back. Have you spoken with Gandalf?_ ”

“He’s been helping us, but we’ve not seen him for some time.”

“ _Typical._ ”

Dis shrugged.

“ _You’ll have your money back in three days at most. Could be as soon as tonight. I’ll put one of my sons on it. Isildur’s a good mind for hacking. If my father used a hacker to get your stocks, Isildur can get it back to you as soon as he’s able._ ”

“Seriously?” Frerin asked.

“ _What my father did to you…it’s not the first time he did this to someone. I told him_ not _to trust Sauron, but…as you can see he didn’t listen to me. I suppose you know what Sauron wants?_ ”

“World War Three.”

“ _I’ll do anything I can to help stop that. Keep an eye on your checkbook._ ”

“Thank you,” Dis said.

“ _I happen to like jumping to the aid of a damsel in distress._ ”

“Again, she’s _married_ ,” Dwalin snapped.

“ _I know._ ”

“Then stop flirting with my wife!”

“And I may be a damsel, and I’m in distress—have been for a week. Your father’s given a very nasty headache—but trust me, I don’t need another knight in shining armor. I’ve already got three too many.”

“ _Touche. Mr. Durin, you have a wonderful wife. Have a nice day._ ”

He hung up and Dis turned the phone off. She stood and kissed Dwalin.

“That can’t wait till we’re out of the room?” Frerin asked. Thorin stood and pulled him to his feet.

“More that she’s telling us to get out.”

She flipped them off.

“Correction: ‘get the fuck out.’ Come on. And don’t forget to lock the door.” They left. Frerin shuddered. Thorin patted his shoulder.

“Seriously?”

“Where do you think Kili was conceived?” Thorin asked.

Frerin glared at him. “I didn’t need to know that. How do you know that?”

“That is a memory that to this day I wish I could forget.”

“You walked in on them?”

“I did.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been terrible.”

 “Yeah, I actually almost beat Dwalin up after. I had to remind myself that they’re married. Now can we not talk about it?”

“We will never got there again. Instead, how’s your sex life going?” Thorin glared at him. Frerin winced. “I thought you two finally—”

“Bilbo’s still…hesitant.”

“You’re living together—literally down the hall.”

“And I had apparently traumatized him more than I thought when I was unmedicated,” Thorin said. “I don’t expect him to jump into bed with me or anything right away, but at this point…”

Frerin hummed, crossing his arms. “Have you tried initiating anything since _after_ you started taking pills?”

“Yes. Almost. He flinched.”

“And you read too much into it.”

“I did almost bite his lip off…and assaulted him in a supply closet.”

“But that was it?”

“Yes! After the first kiss, he stopped coming to my room and I thought I wasn’t going to see him again. It terrified me, so I made sure to do what he said afterwards and I did. But I’m…” Thorin sighed, running his hand through his hair. “He’s driving me crazy, Frerin.”

Frerin crossed his arms and hummed. “I might have an idea, but for it to work, we’ll need him out of the house.”

“So while he’s at work…”

“And we’ll talk to Dis and Dwalin about it later when they’re not…occupied.”

“What are you planning?”

Frerin smirked and threw an arm around Thorin’s shoulder. “I already helped a bit with that playlist, didn’t I? He liked that, right? Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s what worries me,” Thorin said, pushing him away. “And I appreciate the offer, Frerin, but I think I’d rather just…wait till he’s ready.”

Frerin grabbed his shoulders and steered him into an empty conference room. “Thorin, he’s a man in his early-mid-twenties, and he’s sexually active, _and_ he’s dating you. Have you thought to _ask_ him if he’d like to have sex with you or did you just sort of…jump him a little? Because if he flinched, that would be why. I know you’ve been out of commission, but damn it, Thorin, you need to _talk_ about where you both stand before you jump into bed.”

“You’re straight. Why do I bother taking advice from you?”

“Because I’m usually right,” Frerin said. “Talk to him about it. I know that’s not your forte, but if you want him to stay, you need to talk to him. I want him to stay with you. I happen to like Bilbo. Dis does too. Even if she doesn’t seem to act like she does very much. You’re frustrated. Everyone can see that. Just _talk_ to him about it. Who knows? He might open up to having sex with you sooner if you talk to him about it a bit.” He smirked. “And when you finally _do_ it, pray you can keep up.”

Thorin glared at him. “I’m not _that_ old.”

“No, but he’s definitely got more stamina.”

“I _really_ hate you.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! Yesterday was hectic and frustrating so I couldn't get the chapter in. But here it is.

As much as he hated Frerin at the moment, he had a point. He needed to know where he and Bilbo stood…if only to avoid more thrice-damned _flinching_!

He wasn’t sure how he could be tactful in approaching the subject with Bilbo. It was almost like writing a speech or an essay.

 _What can I say to get his attention? What do I say then to transition into what I need to talk to him about?_ Thorin ran his fingers through his hair. _It shouldn’t be this hard!_

The door opened and Bilbo jumped. “Oh.”

“Sorry,” Thorin said, grinning sheepishily.

Bilbo blinked at him. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long,” Thorin lied, feeling his throat tighten.

“Are you angry at me?” Bilbo asked.

“What makes you think that?”

“You’re scowling.”

Thorin mentally smacked himself. “Default expression, I’m afraid…I’m not mad and I’m _certainly_ not mad at you, Bilbo. It’s just…I’d like…I just…”

Bilbo smiled. “I need to use the loo at the moment, but when I come back, we’ll talk about what’s on your mind. Deal?” Thorin nodded and let Bilbo pass by him. He entered the room and sat on the bed, glancing at the open books and computer.

The bed smelt of Bilbo and it took a bit of perseverance to resist picking up one of the pillows. Instead, he glanced at Bilbo’s homework. At least his head swam for a different reason as he read the words typed on the document. Perhaps it was the businessman and philanthropist in him, but the words Bilbo had written were over his head.

“So,” Bilbo said on returning to the room and closing the door. “What’s up?”

He sat beside Thorin, crossing his legs. Thorin’s throat tightened again. Bilbo tilted his head to the side, curls framing his face and bouncing against his neck. Thorin wet his lips.

“I…I’m terrible at sugarcoating.”

“I know,” Bilbo said. Thorin wished he’d blink a little more often or at least avert his gaze elsewhere than his face. “And I’m okay with that. What’s on your mind?”

_I want to have sex with you. I know you want to wait, but you drive me half mad with all the teasing you do. You don’t even realize it, do you?_

“I, uh,” Thorin rubbed the back of his neck, wishing Bilbo would look away. “Bilbo, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Then why are you still so hesitant around me?”

Bilbo blinked, taken aback. “Are you still upset about…I thought we agreed to let it go?”

“We did, it’s not that. It’s just…in general. Am I not…appealing enough for you or—” Bilbo covered his mouth with a hand.

“You’re _more_ than appealing enough, Thorin. I know you’re frustrated and I’m not against being in a relationship with you. Far from it, actually,” he said. “To be honest, if I hadn’t been your nurse, I’d probably have jumped you by now, but as I said before: Dis’ worries are the same as mine and I am _trying_ to convince myself that it’s okay to be with you now. I still feel like I’m breaking some sort of law when I kiss you or let you kiss me. And that night…I suppose I felt like I was back in the supply closet and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get you off me.”

“Bilbo, I would _never_ —”

“I know you won’t. But I’m _still_ afraid of you, a little bit, and I’m trying to fight it. To add to it, I feel guilty for dating you. I shouldn’t feel guilty. I shouldn’t feel ashamed for loving you, Thorin. I know we’ve a lot of support from your family and friends and my coworkers know you’ve still got eyes on me and now that you’re out…well, we don’t really talk about it, actually. But I don’t think they’d care. They _should_ , I think, but—”

“But I’m _out_ ,” Thorin said. “And I’m not being restrained to a bed or a straightjacket anymore. Are you ashamed kissing me?”

“No,” Bilbo said, “When we kiss, a part of me is able to forget—well, _mostly_ forget what is going on. It’s after that I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

Thorin cupped Bilbo’s face in his hands, pressing his forehead to Bilbo’s. “Had we met before Moria, _I_ would feel guilt because of our ages, Bilbo. You’re young, smart, and beautiful and deserve someone who can make you happy and I would always fear that’d not be me. I’ve always been a bit…insecure around my lovers. Too many were after my money, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t _care_ about money,” Bilbo said. “Not to say it’s not important, but I wouldn’t care if you were poor. I’d probably still fall in love with you anyway. One guy admitted that he was only dating me to get free stuff when we broke up. I know how much it hurts. So trust me, I’m not interested in dating people only after my family’s wealth or name. Besides, as I said before, I’ve never felt like a rich kid. I worked at a fast food place in high school and then as a dishwasher at a retirement home while studying at Cambridge. I had to learn to make my own even though I easily could have been raised as spoiled as anyone else. But to get back on subject, I do want to be with you. And one day, I _want_ to have sex with you. I just…I don’t think I can without feeling ashamed about it at the moment and I _am_ trying to work on it and I don’t _want_ to feel that shame when we have sex, Thorin. I really, _really_ don’t.”

Thorin dragged the pad of his thumb over Bilbo’s cheek. “I don’t want you to feel ashamed either,” he said. “I love you, Bilbo, more than you can even comprehend. I know we didn’t get here conventionally and I cannot even begin to describe how obsessed I was with you before my medicine. It wasn’t healthy. I know that. You know that. But here we are. Bilbo, I promise you we’ve done nothing wrong. A lot of people might think we shouldn’t have fallen in love, but I don’t care about them. I love making you smile and I love hearing you laugh. I love the way your eyes sparkle and the way the sun shines in your hair. But I hate that I made you afraid of me and that you feel guilty for something you shouldn’t be ashamed of at all. So if there’s anything I can do to help you get over this feeling, please let me help, even if all I can do is shoulder some of your burden.”

“You’re still frustrated.”

“But I can wait,” Thorin promised. “I’ve gone this long. What’s a little longer?”

Bilbo smiled. “Thank you. I know it’s been difficult and there are a _number_ of reasons behind…well, you know probably better than I do what’s been going on at your company and so on.” He pulled Thorin’s hand away from his cheek, kissing his inner wrist. “How’s that going by the way? Rich again yet?”

“Working on it,” Thorin said. “But Elendil was cooperative, at least, so who knows? And I should warn you Frerin’s up to something about our…static.”

Bilbo winced. “Should I be scared?”

“Maybe a little bit, but compared to everything else we’re going through right now…no. It’s not that bad. _He’s_ not that bad.”

Bilbo chuckled. “Good to know.” He leaned forward and kissed Thorin. “Hungry?”

“Dis is making dinner. She didn’t want to interrupt your studies.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “You already did. I fail to see what difference it would make. Most of these assignments aren’t due till midnight anyway. Really. I could _use_ a study break.”

Thorin grinned. “Then I’m glad I decided to interrupt.” Bilbo snorted and whacked Thorin’s arm. “What?”

“You’re a goof,” Bilbo said, pecking his lips. “I’m going to get in a food war with Dis. Want to watch?”

“Will I be safe on the sidelines?”

“I won’t drag you in, but I cannot guarantee your sister will do the same.” Bilbo stood and headed to the door. Thorin’s eyes trailed down his back. He swallowed, trying to relieve his dry throat.

 _God in heaven, give me strength,_ he thought. Bilbo opened the door and turned to him. “Coming?”

“Yeah,” Thorin said. “In a minute.”

Bilbo frowned, confused, but he left the room, leaving the door open. Once Bilbo had disappeared down the stairs, Thorin held his head in his hands and groaned. _This requires the internet…_

#

“Dinner’s not ready yet,” Dis said.

“I know. I’m helping.”

“But your homework—”

“Isn’t due for another few hours and I really need a break before my brain decides to explode,” he said. Dis snorted.

“Cool,” Fili said.

“Would you be dead if you kept studying, Mr. Boggins?” Kili asked. Bilbo stared at the boys and Dis threw her head back and laughed. Bilbo half wanted to tell Kili that too much studying _could_ kill you. It’d be a wonderful joke. However, he felt Dis would kill him for scaring her kid, so he shook his head.

“No, Kili, you won’t die. You’ll just have a headache.”

“Bilbo, if you could watch the sauce, that’d be great.”

“Did you add garlic to it?”

Dis wrinkled her nose. “Not a lot of people like garlic in this family and my husband’s actually allergic to it.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said, picking up a wooden spoon and stirring the tomato sauce. “So there wouldn’t be any garlic in it anyway.”

“Dad gets all puffy if he has it,” Kili announced. Dis hid her face behind her hands, shoulders shaking. Bilbo glanced at her.

“At least your children are entertaining, right?” he asked just as her phone began to ring.

“You have no idea,” she said, picking it up and leaving the room. “Hello?”

“Mr. Boggins,” Kili said. “Fili said we might have to live on the streets—”

“I did _not_!”

Bilbo set the spoon down and looked at them. “You won’t,” he said. “You’re parents and uncles are working hard to fix the problem, okay? Trust them. They’re doing everything they can. You won’t have to leave this house.”

“How do you know?” Kili asked.

“Because I’m doing my best to help them too,” Bilbo said.

Kili nodded, staring at his coloring book before looking at Bilbo again. “Are you and Uncle Thorin going to get married?” Fili hissed Kili’s name, drawing a line over his throat quickly.

Bilbo blushed. “What? Ma—well…uh…maybe. But not for a very long time, Kili.”

“They can’t get married,” Fili pointed out. “They’re both guys, Kili.”

“That’s stupid.”

Fili nodded. “But that’s the law right now.” Bilbo rubbed the back of his neck. “They can have a registered life partnership though. It’s pretty close.”

“Why not just call it a marriage then?”

“Because it’s _not_ the same as a marriage,” Fili said, exasperated. He looked at Bilbo. “What about in England? Is same-sex marriage okay there?”

Bilbo cleared his throat. “It…depends where you live, but for the most part, yes.” Dis returned, head high and grinning. “What?”

“That was Isildur, Elendil’s son,” she said. “He said he successfully hacked into Numenor. We’ll have our funds again in a matter of hours.”

“That’s great!”

“Bilbo,” she said, “The sauce.”

“Right!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Recognition_of_same-sex_unions_in_Germany  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Same-sex_marriage_in_the_United_Kingdom


	35. Chapter 35

“I’m catching a pattern,” Frerin announced on his return from work.

Dis had the day off for a school event and Thorin was in his office with Balin. Bilbo glanced at him from his computer, frowning.

“Pattern?” he asked.

Frerin handed him the newspaper. Bilbo was partially amazed people still used printed paper at times given how quickly everything was going online. At least it was akin to a backup system, perhaps.

Frerin had given him the business pages, which declared that Numenor Oil Company had gone bankrupt. Bilbo looked at him.

“And this grand pattern you’ve found is…”

“Sauron ruins whoever fails him. Smaug, Azog, now Ar-Pharazôn. I’ve already delivered the news to Gandalf and he said he’d be by sooner or later to discuss this.”

Bilbo set his laptop on the coffee table.

“Do you think that this means our list of enemies gets smaller or bigger? I have a hard time believing that we know the _full_ extent of who works for Melkor Corp. Besides, even if the owners aren’t the kind of people to be left in power, closing the company entirely means that hundreds, maybe thousands, of jobs are gone.”

Frerin nodded. “It’s not their fault, but neither is it ours. Ar-Pharazôn didn’t _have_ to work with the Melkor Corp. I’m sure Elendil will find a way to help them since I doubt his father will.”

 _One can hope_ , Bilbo said. “I suppose for now, we could consider it a victory. Have you told your sister yet?” Frerin nodded. “Thorin’s still having his appointment with Balin.”

“Yes, I know. I’ll talk to him afterward. So,” Frerin sat beside him. “How are you and my brother getting along? Is everything good?”

“Yes, everything’s fine.”

“Good,” he said, reaching into his coat and pulling out a few papers, “Because I’ve taken the liberty of planning your next date.”

Bilbo blushed.

“Yep. There’s this restaurant on Ludwig-Beck Street, Vox Restaurant, and it’s not too far from the Grand Hyatt.”

“ _Frerin_ —”

“Hear me out,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I know you and Thorin are having trouble moving to the next step in your relationship. You know: the step where you fall into bed with each other and annoy the neighbors with how loud you scream.”

Bilbo blushed and punched his arm. “Our sex life is none of your damn business, you asswipe!”

“It is when I get tired of watching my brother stare at your ass. Trust me, it’s rather tiring and while I’d rather not know what his fixation with your butt is—”

“I am _not_ talking to you about this,” Bilbo moaned, hiding his face in his hands.

Frerin handed him the papers. “It’s this Friday at seven. I’ve already discussed it with Dis and Balin. Go to dinner at fancy restaurant and then go to the hotel. And _please_ rock his world.”

“I fail to see how that’d make him any less lustful.”

“Probably won’t, but at least he won’t—”

“What are you doing?”

Frerin and Bilbo glanced at Thorin, who seemed irate. Bilbo handed him the papers.

“Frerin’s taken liberty to set up a date for us.”

“At the _Vox_?!”

“And the Grand Hyatt just a few feet away,” Frerin added.

Thorin lowered the papers. “Frerin, may I talk to you in private?”

“Sure.”

Bilbo grabbed his laptop. “I’ll be here if you need me,” he said as the brothers went to Thorin’s office.

#

Gandalf’s appearance that night was brief and surmised that Sauron _did_ have a tendency to drop whomever failed him as though it were a natural course.

“Sauron considers failure as akin to weakness and he only keeps those who make the Melkor Corporation stronger. Once someone is perceived as weak or useless, he cuts them off and takes whatever funding they had before.”

Frerin drew his finger across his throat.

Gandalf nodded at him.

“Precisely,” he said. “Losing Moria to us wasn’t as big a blow as we assumed it would. He doesn’t care for the people who work there, only whether it has use to him. Until Azog failed to get Thorin back and Thorin’s testimony—and Dis’ quick thinking and daring—it had use to him _because_ it kept Thorin prisoner. Once Azog couldn’t contain Thorin anymore, Moria became a liability and he left it. Giving it to us was no grand gesture of compliance or friendship. It was an act of war. Same as Ar-Pharazôn’s fall.”

“What about the people working there?” Bilbo asked. “They did nothing wrong.”

Gandalf nodded. “Elendil bought Numenor from Sauron. Those who worked there innocently will not lose their jobs. Those who allied themselves with the Melkor Corporation, however, have already been given their notice. He has his father in a safe facility in Italy—he was moved there a little while ago, safe from Sauron’s clutches. He might not like his father, but he is still a loyal son. I do not know the future of Numenor Oil, but I trust Elendil’s judgment. He will do whatever is best. He may also want to work in tandem with Erebor Tech.”

Dwalin groaned and Dis patted his arm. “He’s a harmless flirt,” she assured him.

“Harmless or not, I will _not_ be held responsible for punching his nose in,” Dwalin growled.

Dis laid her head on his shoulder. “I love you, but _try_ to keep your temper in check, love. This might be beneficial for Erebor.”

“Will you two stop it?” Frerin said. “The cuteness is just… _blegh_.”

Dwalin flipped him off and Thorin snorted.

“I don’t understand what you have against Dwalin and Dis being together, but you keep pushing me and Bilbo to—”

“Can we not?” Bilbo snapped, glaring at them.

“Sorry.”

“It’s very easy. She’s my little sister. You’re my big brother. Protecting her and annoying you is my life’s goal and though I’ve been absent for the last few years, I think I’ve done my duty quite admirably.”

Thorin punched his arm and Dis smacked the back of his head.

“Siblings,” Gandalf muttered. “No matter how old they get, they never grow up.”

“Be nice to your brother,” Bilbo snapped.

Dis and Thorin turned to him, glaring. Frerin threw his head back and laughed.

“Sibling-less people don’t get a say in how those who have siblings treat their siblings,” Dwalin said. “This is very, _very_ normal.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I don’t know about you, but I do not consider smacking your brother around and teasing your sister normal. It’s cruel.”

“Not really,” Dis said. “It’s very normal.”

“It’s also normal that she’d get away with everything,” Thorin said.

“Daddy’s girl,” Frerin muttered.

“I didn’t get away with everything.”

“Yeah, you did,” Frerin said. Thorin nodded. “Not to mention all the blackmailing you did!”

“How many toys did you get from blackmailing us?”

“And how many times did you scream that we were bugging you just to get us in trouble with Dad?”

Dwalin winced. “Thank God Fili and Kili get along.”

“Sibling rivalry is a normal course of life when you have brothers and sisters,” she said. “And the only reason they get along is because Fili’s too old to get away with bullying Kili. He’s nearly a teenager,” she paused and shuddered. “I don’t want to think about that. I’m not ready for a teenager.”

“Is anyone ever?” Dwalin asked.

“Perhaps we could get back on track?” Gandalf asked, a little annoyed by the bunny trail they’d gone on. “Sauron isn’t done with us yet. We need to find a way to strike the Melkor Corporation sooner rather than later, having Elendil and his family as an ally in our cause will be more than merely beneficial. I will be arranging for us to meet with him and his assistant, Denethor Steward.”

Bilbo frowned. _Steward_? He heard that name before. Perhaps he could ask his grandfather…

“In the meantime, be careful. Sauron might have a more dangerous enemy come upon us in time.” Gandalf stood. “I’ll contact you shortly with the meeting time and place. Enjoy the rest of your week—Bilbo, a word if you please.”

Bilbo stood and followed Gandalf to the door.

“How are things between you and Thorin?”

“Seems everyone is asking that these days,” Bilbo sighed. “We’re fine.”

Gandalf hummed. “It’s not easy entering a personal relationship with someone you originally had a professional relationship with.” He clapped his shoulder. “But don’t let it distress you too much. You’ve done much for him and you might not have noticed how much he adores you.”

Bilbo blushed and Gandalf winked.

“As far as anyone is concerned, you’ve done nothing wrong, my boy. Your grandparents seemed quite delighted hearing you’ve found someone, so be sure to bring him home next Christmas. I don’t think your grandmother will tolerate another missed holiday."

Bilbo gaped at him. “You told my _grandparents_?!”

“They worry about you and I promised your grandfather I’d keep an eye on you as often as I could spare to. Gerry was a little…shocked that you and Thorin are dating—worried about the age difference, naturally, and he never got along with Thror back in the day. I think he expected the rivalry to carry on with you.” He shrugged. “Don’t deny him his right to give Thorin a fair warning.”

“You meddling old _coot_!”

Gandalf put his hat on and left. Bilbo closed the door behind him, shaking his head.

“Bilbo!” Frerin said. “Do you have formal wear for Friday?”

“ _Leave it alone!_ ” Thorin snapped. Bilbo pressed his head to the door, wondering what he did to deserve so many people meddling in his life…


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning:  
> Kidnapping  
> Torture threats  
> Possible torture  
> Drug Withrdrawal

Bilbo tugged at the grey green jacket, unsure whether he preferred it open or not. It was coupled with matching pants and a cream-white shirt.

A part of him wanted to wear a tie with it, but that made him feel less on a date and more at a business meeting. In the end, he opted for leaving the top button on the shirt loose and grabbed his new shiny black shoes.

How did Frerin convince him to wear this?!

 _Begging_ , he reminded himself. _Lots and lots of begging and annoying and poking…_

He sighed and left his room, nearly bumping into Thorin. Thorin in a suit wasn’t an uncommon appearance. He wore one daily at work, but there was something…different about this suit.

“Are you wearing blue?”

“Frerin’s idea,” Thorin sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Is that grey or green?”

“Both,” Bilbo said.

“I know he got us a hotel, but we don’t have to go to it and if we do, we don’t have to do anything.” Bilbo glanced at Thorin again.

“Thanks. But who knows? We’ll see where tonight leads,” he said. “So I’m not exactly sure what sort of restaurant toe Vox is.”

“Japanese,” Thorin said. He smiled. “Don’t worry, if anyone talks to us in Japanese, I’ll save the day.”

Bilbo nudged Thorin with an elbow, trying not to laugh at the cheesy declaration. In the hallway, Frerin and Dis stood, taking their shoes and coats off. Frerin whistled and Dis giggled.

“Have fun, you two,” she said.

“Bilbo, R.H.W.”

“What?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Radiological hazard warning?” Thorin asked.

Frerin rolled his eyes. “No. Just…have fun. Forget I said anything.”

“That’s easier to do than you think,” Thorin said. Bilbo hooked his arm around Thorin’s, leading him to the door. “What?”

“Be nice to your brother,” Bilbo said, “Maybe good things will happen.”

“Seriously? When did you turn into a fortune cookie?”

Bilbo laughed and they approached the car.

#

_Where am I?_

Bilbo’s head felt heavy and trying to lift it took more effort than he’d like. He groaned and something grabbed his hair, yanking it till his head was up.

“Rise and shine, Shorty,” a man sneered. “The General will see you soon enough, so hold on tight. Want something to drink?”

His head throbbed. “Where am I?” he asked. Even his voice felt wrong, like it’d been taken to a cheese grater. His mouth felt like it’d been stuffed with cotton.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the man said, pinching his chin. “You’ll remember soon enough. You don’t get to ask questions. But you can answer ours. For your sake, I’d cooperate with us. What does Gandalf know about the Melkor Corporation?”

“I don’t know everything about it,” Bilbo said. “And I am not at liberty to say.” The man sighed, letting Bilbo’s chin go. Bilbo managed to hold his head up on his own till a fist slammed into his cheek.

“As I said, it’s in your best interest to tell us what you know. And quickly. Your boyfriend’s going to suffer withdrawal symptoms soon, so if you won’t tell me for your sake, I’d do it for his. So: the Melkor Corporation. What does Gandalf know?”

“Like I said, I don’t know everything. Just what Sauron is planning, and probably only a fraction of who works for him.”

The man hummed. “That’s better, give me some details.”

“World War Three. And the companies that were subsidiaries: Numenor, Moria, The Weathered Heaths, and Angmar. The Weathered Heaths closed down years ago, Moria is now owned by Erebor Tech, Numenor was bought back by Elendil Numenor after it faced economic turmoil briefly.”

The man patted his cheek, you’re a smart kid. Is that all?”

“That is all I know.”

“What about Gandalf’s plan? What does he intend to do?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t told us. Probably in case something like this happened.”

The man hummed. “I can believe that. How about this: Bolg Gundebad. He was supposed to join Mr. Annatar weeks ago to do a father and son gig with Azog. But he’s not been seen since the trial.”

“I’ve not seen him since then either. I doubt he’d want to. It was my discovery that got his father landed in prison.”

“Azog is not in prison.” Bilbo felt cold at the new information. If Azog is free, what would that mean for Thorin and Frerin? After everything they did to get him incarcerated, why is he still free? “And you don’t need to know more than that. So Bolg has not approached you?”

“No.”

“You’re his friend.”

“I don’t know if we still are. Finding out your father’s a rapist is going to do a number on a kid.”

“He’s eighteen years old. In many places, that is an adult.”

“It doesn’t change anything. I’ve not seen him.” A loud scream and crashing came from the other side of a wall. The man laughed. “Must be some _killer_ withdrawal your boyfriend’s going through.” Thorin screamed again. Bilbo tugged at his bonds.

“Let me go to him. I can calm him down.”

The man tsked. “No. Can’t do that: General Angmar’s orders.”

“I gave you what you wanted! Let us go! Thorin is extremely violent in this state! He might kill someone if you’re not careful!”

“We will handle your boyfriend,” the man said. “What about Frerin Durin? He’s got some files stashed away. Maybe he told you?”

“He might like me, but we aren’t that close. If he has anything like that, he hasn’t shown me,” Bilbo said. Another crash banged against the wall. “Look, Thorin might hurt himself as well as others.”

“And I don’t fucking care what your lunatic boyfriend does.” There’s a gunshot and Bilbo’s heart rate spiked.

“Thorin!”

“Relax, we’re not going to kill anyone. At least not yet,” the man said. “He’s likely been tranquilized. See? No worries. Now,” he snapped his fingers in front of Bilbo’s face. “Anything else you’d like to tell me about your little group? The general would _love_ to know.”

“I told you what I know. You want answers? You’ll be able to get more from Gandalf.”

The man hummed again. “True, but Gandalf,” he whistled. “That guy is untouchable.”

“Look, my grandfather is also—”

“Yeah, we know about General Took. Hell of a man. Made General Patton look like a cissy back in the day. Your grandpa’s very hardcore, so I was kind of hoping the same from you, _but_ so far you’ve been rather compliant. It’s a bit disappointing.”

“I gave you what you wanted.”

“I know. Denied the general some fun, he might take it out on your boyfriend. Or maybe the little one. The kid. You know, the sister’s youngest.”

Bilbo’s head buzzed with rage. He struggled with his bonds. The man whistled.

“He’s not even your kid.”

“He’s still a kid!”

Someone knocked on the door. “Still busy!” The man shouted. The knocking intensified and he groaned, hanging his head. He stood and approached the door, opening it. Three gunshots fired and the man fell, tranqulizer bullets in his chest. Thorin stepped over him, leaning against the wall and breathing heavily.

“Bilbo?”

“I’m here,” he said. Thorin staggered toward him. “How are you feeling?”

“Sick,” he said. “Everyone’s turning into a monster and back and I don’t know…”

“Thorin, can you untie me? We’ll get out of here as soon as I can move.”

Thorin dropped the gun and placed his hands on Bilbo’s knees. His hands were shaking and his skin was pale and sweaty. He gulped for air and pulled out a knife, slicing the plastic bonds around Bilbo’s wrists and ankles. Bilbo took the knife from him and picked up the gun.

It was heavier than he assumed it would be, but he couldn’t let Thorin hold it in his state and he also needed to be able to support him on the way out.

Considering they could find the way out.

He tucked the knife in his belt and adjusted the strap on the gun so it’d hang around his shoulder better before taking Thorin’s arm and putting it behind his neck while his other hand grabbed Thorin’s waist.

“How long have we been here?”

“I don’t know,” Thorin said. “The last thing I remember is that we were thinking of going to the hotel to watch a movie or something and then everything else is a blank.” Bilbo hummed. Thorin remembered the date? Why couldn’t he? “Who knows how long ago that was,” Thorin said.

Bilbo looked down the hallway, hoping for an exit sign. He doubted they’d be that lucky. He chose to go right and led Thorin as quickly as he could without upsetting him more than he already was.

Someone whistled from behind them. It was a tall man in black. “This way.”

“Why should I trust you?” Bilbo hissed.

“Gandalf sent me.”

“Prove it!” The man approached them and removed his mask.

Bolg grinned at them. “Believe me now?”

Bilbo wanted to. He really wanted to. “Not really.”

“Good enough for me.” He reached for Thorin and Bilbo stepped back. Bolg sighed. “We don’t have time. You can either trust me or not, but I promise I’ll get you out. I need you to trust me, Bilbo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Withdrawal time here is likely different for Thorin, but for me, who drinks coffee daily, I tend to have a nasty headache within a few hours of not having coffee that lasts until I have them.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW? Would mentions of neo-Nazism count? What about vomit?  
> Just to be safe, I'll warn you anyway...
> 
> Also: lots of dialogue...sorry...TT.TT Its some info dump.

_He reached for Thorin and Bilbo stepped back. Bolg sighed. “We don’t have time. You can either trust me or not, but I promise I’ll get you out. I need you to trust me, Bilbo.”_

“Why? I’ve not seen you for months.”

“And I’ll tell you what I’ve been up to sine the trial when we’re out of here. Thorin needs medical attention, doesn’t he? Aren’t his withdrawal symptoms pretty bad?”

“I can still hold a fucking gun, you little shit,” Thorin growled.

Bilbo sighed and bit his lip. “Fine. Lead the way.”

Bolg fixed his mask back over his face and led them in the opposite direction. Bilbo kept his gaze on Bolg’s back, suspicion echoing thought after thought in the back of his mind. After all, wouldn’t there be people trying to stop them if he was on their side—

“Get down!” Thorin shouted, shoving Bilbo against the wall as bullets flew past them. Bolg joined them, holding a revolver in his hand. Thorin aimed the tranq gun and fired.

“You know that’s not going to do much.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Thorin snapped.

He raised a shaky hand and wiped his forehead. Bilbo took the gun. “Rest,” he said. “You’re not able to fight right now.”

“You’re not a soldier.”

“Don’t need to be a soldier in order to know how to use a gun,” Bolg pointed out, firing a couple shots.

“What about aim?” Bilbo asked.

“That’s a little harder,” Bolg admitted. “Especially when they’re moving.”

“Fuck it,” Thorin growled. “You got a bomb or something?”

“Sadly I don’t carry a full on arsenal,” Bolg muttered. “Sorry.”

“Thorin, how are you?”

“F-fine.”

“Not going to hulk out?”

“If I survive this bloody withdrawal, I could. But as it is, I feel like I’ve been bulldozed by a tank.” Bilbo fired a second shot, hitting the man in the shoulder while Bolg took down another four.

“Thorin get up. We’re running,” Bolg said, helping Thorin back onto his feet.

Bilbo followed as they ran for the door—wherever it was. It felt like ages before they managed to get out (avoiding more soldiers, or mercenaries…Bilbo wasn’t sure what they were exactly), and approached a black van with tinted windows. Bolg opened the side door and Bilbo helped Thorin inside.

“Blankets are on the floor,” Bolg said, igniting the car to life. “Nearest and safest hospital is back in the city.”

“The _city_?!” Bilbo cried, nearly bumping his head on the car’s roof while wrapping Thorin in blankets. Even with them covering him from head to toe with only his nose and eyes visible, Thorin shivered. “How far away from Berlin are we?!”

“Mittenwalde, Germany,” Bolg said. “About an hour away from where they took you. You’ve been missing for nearly six hours. They really knocked you both out, did they.”

“No,” Thorin said. “I can’t speak for Bilbo, but I was awake for most of it. They knocked me out, but Bilbo’s head…”

Bilbo reached for his head, feeling for anything that shouldn’t be there. He winced finding a large, stinging bump. “Was I bleeding?” Thorin nodded. “Great. I was asleep for most of it. I don’t remember anything since leaving the house.”

“Six hours?” Thorin asked. “No one would know we were gone. How did you?”

The sun began to rise, waking a drowsy city. Bolg glanced at them in his rearview mirror before looking at the road again. “I work as a dishwasher at the Grand Hyatt. Gandalf helped me get the job there, said it’d be a good cover and it’s a good job for a college student. So there’s that…so I ended up seeing the whole thing. I would’ve helped earlier, but…”

“You froze,” Thorin said.

Bilbo glared at him. “He’s eighteen, Thorin. And he’s not a soldier. Give him a break.” He turned to Bolg. “What happened then?”

“I called Gandalf. He traced the car and sent me to get you. Something about needing to still prove to him I’m not like my father, so…I figured he’d know that already.”

“Of course you’re not your father,” Bilbo said.

“Look a hell of a lot like him, though,” Thorin muttered.

“Sadly I can’t help my genetics,” Bolg snapped.

“Bolg, you did a good job,” Bilbo said. “I’ll talk to Gandalf. He shouldn’t have sent you.”

“I know,” Bolg said. “But I’m glad I did. I was freaked, but I think going after ORC helped.”

“Orc?”

“The group that kidnapped you. Mercenaries who work under Angmar. Private police. I think a few are neo-Nazi’s…like Dad.”

Bilbo frowned, feeling as though his blood froze. “Bolg, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know and finding out was hard, but I needed to know if it was true, so I visited some of Dad’s old subordinates.”

Bilbo looked at the floor. What could he say?

“But I’m not anything like that. I don’t fucking care about the same things Dad does. A person’s a person and everyone deserves respect.”

Thorin coughed. “Well, appearance aside, you’re not so bad, Kid.”

“Not a kid!”

“And if he is, then what am I?” Bilbo asked, frowning at Thorin, who grinned at him.

“My angel,” he said, phrasing it like a question. “My savior. My very pretty and compassionate boyfriend who kicks ass.” Bilbo rolled his eyes. He moved to sit beside Bolg.

“I will not deny that I kick ass,” he said. “But I’m not an angel.” Bolg laughed and Bilbo looked at him. “So you joined us.”

“What other option did I have? It was either this, sit on the sidelines, or meet up with Dad later.”

“What?” Thorin asked.

“Azog’s still free,” Bilbo said. Thorin tightened the blanket around him and shivered. “Thorin?”

Thorin groaned and sniffed. “I’m okay.” Bilbo sighed. He wasn’t okay.

“And I wasn’t going to do the whole Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker gig, and while sitting on the sidelines would be safer, it didn’t feel right. Not after what I learned…so I reached out to Gandalf and he’s trying to get me to warm up to the idea of spying on Sauron for him.”

“Which could lead to Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker.”

“Yes.”

Bilbo ran his hand through his hair. “Well, I will speak with Yoda,” he said. “Brilliant or not, Gandalf shouldn’t be making you do something you don’t want to.”

“What about you?”

“Gandalf might have pointed me in the right direction,” Bilbo said. “But I involved myself. Beside he broke himself out. I didn’t do anything.”

“For a military veteran, the security at Moria under your father was crap,” Thorin said.

“He was cheap,” Bolg said.

“That would explain a lot.”

“You broke out of your room to steal my badge, once,” Bilbo said.

 Thorin smiled at him. “I remember,” Thorin said. “And I now admit that I stole it because it had your picture on it.”

Bilbo groaned and hid his face in his hands. “Thorin…”

“I know. I need my meds. In the meantime, I feel like shit, look like shit, and probably am shit.”

“You’re dating him now?” Bolg asked.

“Yes, but only when he’s medicated. It’s preferable.”

“It can’t help that he’s a sexy fucker.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“I’m still conscious and somewhat lucid.”

“Honey, you need to stop voicing your every thought,” Bilbo said. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“I don’t…” Thorin dove off the chair and spewed. Bilbo turned around and Bolg looked green.

“I think I’ll just blow the car up,” he said, rolling down the windows in hope of lessening the smell. “Rather than bother cleaning it.”

“Weak,” Bilbo muttered. “Try having to deal with someone puking on you almost daily and then we’ll talk.”

“You can clean it then!”

“I don’t want to! It’s Thorin’s puke. He can clean it when he’s better.”

Bolg rolled his eyes and pulled into the hospital entrance. He and Bilbo climbed out, helping Thorin back onto his feet as Bilbo shouted at a nurse on his break. Bolg pressed a phone to his ear and stayed outside while Thorin was rushed to the emergency room and Bilbo had his head looked at.

Thorin grabbed his hand. “You’re not really going to make me clean up the sick are you?”

Bilbo smiled. “No. Focus on getting better, honey.” He kissed Thorin’s damp forehead, stroking his hair. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” He let go of Thorin’s hand and was led to another room.

Once his head was looked at and bandaged, he was led to a room with a second bed already occupied. The screen was pulled back, showing him that he would be with Thorin. He glanced at the nurse, who shrugged and left.

Bilbo sat on the empty bed and watched Thorin sleep. His pallor was looking better and his breathing even. An IV was stuck in his arm and a heart monitor. He moved from his bed to sit on Thorin’s, taking his hand. At least one of them would be able to rest after what they had gone through. But Bilbo did wish Thorin was awake with him.

What had happened on the date before it was interrupted?

Had they agreed to go to the hotel? Or had they decided something else?

_Why can’t I remember?_


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late again! I'm sorry, it's finals week!

Thorin groaned and Bilbo opened his eyes to look at him. He adjusted the pillow under his head. “Morning,” he said.  Thorin groaned again, turning away from the window. “Feeling better?”

“Less like I’m about to puke at any given moment,” he admitted. “But all in all, I still feel like shit. You? Are you doing better?”

Bilbo nodded. “A bit,” he admitted. “Can you tell me what happened before we got kidnapped? I still don’t remember.”

Thorin blinked, staring at Bilbo blearily. “You really think you won’t remember?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had amnesia before. Clinically I know what to expect, but…”

Thorin hummed and eased into a sitting position. “After we left, we bitched about Frerin.” Bilbo snorted and Thorin wrapped his arms around his knees. “And somehow we went from bitching about my brother to talking about exes.”

“Frerin chased Nori off because he wanted me to get with you, I think.”

“Yeah, I think that’s how it started.”

“And we weren’t really dating,” Bilbo said. “We were sex buddies.” Thorin nodded, gripping his hands just a little tighter. “And that bothers you?”

“I won’t say I’m not jealous about it. You knew I was in love with you.”

“Thorin…”

“I know. I was still your patient.” He sighed. “After that, we arrived at the restaurant and you told me to order for you because you weren’t sure what to order and also because you didn’t trust yourself to not order squid. So I got you something you would recognize: something with chicken.”

“Thank you. Most would probably get squid to joke with me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“And I was joking," Bilbo said. Thorin blushed. “Too early?”

“Yeah. Let’s go with that. Um…we talked some more about how school was going for you. How work was for both of us. Around desert, we agreed to go to the hotel to play trivia games and maybe poker.”

Bilbo held his breath, expecting more to be said.

“Is that all?” he asked, not wanting to be done in by the suspense.

Thorin looked at him. “We figured if it lead to sex, we’d let it happen. As it is, we’ll never know.”

“And that was…your idea?”

“No. It was yours,” Thorin said. “I won’t deny I hoped…but on the way there, this van pulled up and knocked you out first. Then something hit my head and I lost consciousness. After that, I woke up _there_ and started suffering withdrawal symptoms around the time they started interrogating you.”

“Did they…”

“No. I had guards in the room, but I wasn’t being interrogated.” Bilbo wished they didn’t let the silence get to them after that. He stood and moved over to Thorin’s bed, sitting beside him. He took one of his hands and kissed it. “I’m sorry I failed to protect you,” Thorin said. Bilbo met his gaze.

“You are a very silly man, Thorin Oakenshield. I don’t need to be protected. I love you. I want to spend time with you and you have no idea how much I want to remember what happened. Telling me is one thing, but remembering would help me understand how I felt during it and I feel like I was thrown into a dream and then woken very cruelly.”

Thorin wrapped an arm around him and kissed his forehead. Bilbo hid his face in the crook of Thorin’s neck.

“I love you,” Bilbo said. “And sometimes it still scares me. I don’t want to get attached to you only to lose you. Whether to your sickness again or because of this war we’ve been thrust into…”

Thorin squeezed his shoulder. “Is that why you won’t…you don’t want to lose me?” Bilbo bit his lip and nodded. “You won’t.”

“You can’t promise me that,” Bilbo said, fisting Thorin’s hospital pajamas. “I could have lost you last night. We could have died and I…”

Thorin gently pinched Bilbo’s chin, tilting his head up to meet his gaze and pressed his lips to Bilbo’s mouth. Bilbo answered the kiss, moving his lips with Thorin’s, allowing a tongue to slip past his lips. He eased Thorin back onto his back, sliding his hands under Thorin’s shirt, feeling hair covering a well-muscled chest.

Someone cleared his throat and Bilbo gasped, breaking the kiss.

His hands still lay on Thorin’s belly and Thorin’s hands had found their way to his ass. Gandalf arched a brow. Bilbo climbed off Thorin, blushing.

“I’m glad you two are getting along all right, but try to keep your hands to yourself till you’re somewhere more private than the hospital.”

“That would be a good idea,” Bilbo mumbled.

“Or you could leave and lock the fucking door,” Thorin growled. Bilbo gave his hand a squeeze.

“ORC is in the wind and we are looking for Azog again. He’s likely in the wind as well,” Gandalf said.

“I thought so too,” Bilbo said. “Doesn’t Sauron drop anyone who fails him?”

“Perhaps not,” Gandalf said. “But I and a few others are on the lookout for anyone who calls Sauron an associate. That I promise you. We _will_ find Azog and we will find a way to stop Sauron. In _fact_ , I think I have a solution.”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes. “If you mean Bolg, then we need to have a talk, Gandalf.”

“Well, Bolg’s usefulness as a spy is moot now. Sauron would know he’s not on his side after tonight. He would be suspicious. And the neo-Nazi connections worry me.”

“I’m sure it does,” Thorin said. “But what do you want us to do about it?”

“That I am still working on. Bolg really was our best chance, but there are others who Azog was close to.” Bilbo frowned.

“No.”

“What?”

“Gandalf, you are not using my friends to get to Azog.”

“What choice will we have?” he asked. “I know you don’t want to involve anyone else, but we need to know Sauron’s plan. When he intends to start the third World War and why he wants to do this. We don’t know nearly enough, Bilbo.”

He shook his head. “Is there nothing else we can do?”

“You let me worry about the details,” he said. “Focus on getting better and maybe take a day off from work. I’ll talk to Balin and Dis. I’m sure they’ll give you two a little more time off.”

He winked and left the room just as a nurse entered with breakfast. Once she had left. Thorin leaned back in his seat. “Damn it.”

Bilbo kissed his cheek. “He’s right about needing more privacy.”

Thorin groaned again. “I know. I hate it when he’s right.”

“Join the club. But it’s not all bad, is it?” Thorin looked at Bilbo. “I know now that I’ve been putting it off for the wrong reasons. I figured I could wait till this conspiracy blows up or blows over or whatever and last night, this morning. I know now that I can’t...I’m still not sure I’m ready, or that I won’t feel guilty, but…” He rubbed the pad of his thumb against Thorin’s hand. “I want you. And I love you. And that really ought to be enough for me.”

Thorin kissed his hand. “When we get home,” he said. “Dis, Frerin, Dwalin, and the kids should be gone by eight or nine. Would that work for you?”

Bilbo smiled. “It would.”

Two raps alerted them to the arrival of Thorin’s brother and sister. Frerin looked quite pale. “Are you two taking visitors?” he asked as Dis strode in with a bouquet of chocolate roses.

“We are,” Thorin said.

“I am _so_ sorry.”

“Frerin,” Bilbo said. “You didn’t know this would happen. So don’t apologize.”

“What he said.”

“But I feel terrible!”

Dis sighed. “I’ve been dealing with this for the last few hours.”

Bilbo stood and approached her. They left the room so that Thorin could try and calm Frerin down instead. He told her about what happened the night before and his amnesia. “Is there anything I can do about it?”

Dis shrugged. “I’m not the person to ask, but I wouldn’t fret. You and Thorin looked ridiculously cute when we entered. What were you thinking about?”

Bilbo blushed. “Uh…nothing important.” She smirked and hummed. Bilbo’s blush deepened. “Please don’t. I’d rather not talk to a mom about it.”

“Hon, how do you think I became a mom?” Bilbo shuddered. He did not need to know that.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little sexy stuff happens, but then emotional stuff happens.

“There are leftovers in the freezer,” Dis said. “And I got _Die Hard_ for you two on BluRay if you want to watch it. Don’t worry about work, Balin and I have everything under control.”

As she rambled on, Thorin rolled his eyes exaggeratingly at Bilbo, who ignored it and nodded his head dutifully. After one last goodbye, Thorin managed to push his sister out of the house and locked the door. He looked at Bilbo.

“So.”

“So,” Bilbo said, a smile tugging on his lips and approaching Thorin “Would it be silly to ask if you’re still interested in having sex with me?”

“Very,” Thorin said. Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck. “My question is are you all right with it?” Bilbo nodded, pushing himself up on his toes to capture Thorin’s lips.

He swiped his tongue over the seam of thorn’s lips, tangling his hands in Thorin’s hair as Thorin moved his hands to Bilbo’s hips, pulling their bodies closer together. Bilbo nipped Thorin’s bottom lip, earning a soft groan and he smiled. He pulled away from Thorin and ran up the stairs.

“Meet me in my room in a bit,” he said, smiling at Thorin’s stunned stare.

He ran to his room, holding back a laugh as Thorin chased after him, feet pounding against the stairs. He caught Bilbo around the waist outside his room and they fumbled inside. He kicked the door closed and pushed Bilbo onto the bed, climbing on top of him.

“Couldn’t let me prepare?”

“And miss out on making you moan and scream for me?” Thorin asked, pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s jaw. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Moan and scream?” Bilbo asked, trying not to laugh. He shrugged. “Well, you’re welcome to try.”

He yelped when Thorin seized his ass and squeezed. Thorin smirked. “Try? Right. Sure.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and pushed Thorin onto his back. He kissed Thorin and stood, stripping out of his clothes. A voice in the back of his head begged him to stop, to pull away before he did something he’d regret. Bilbo ignored it, wondering:

 _Why would I regret it_?

His doubts and fears seemed foolish now as Thorin watched him, awe and hunger on his face as Bilbo climbed back on the bed, fisting Thorin’s t-shirt and pulling it up over Thorin’s head and off before attacking the jeans.

Thorin grabbed his wrists and rolled them over again, pinning Bilbo’s hands above his head. He kissed him, then moved his lips down the column of Bilbo’s neck and paused at the torso, dragging his tongue over a nipple while his free hand pinched at the other.

The hand that held Bilbo’s hands captive moved to his waist. Bilbo closed his eyes, biting his lip. Thorin ground his hips down on Bilbo’s, biting at the bud. Bilbo gasped—

_Thorin stood and grabbed Bilbo’s wrist._

_“Thorin?”_

_Bilbo tried to tug his wrist free, but Thorin pushed him against the wall—_

Thorin moved away from his breast to his stomach. Bilbo opened his eyes and shook his head, staring at the clock instead. Thorin’s hands massaged his thighs, pushing them apart. His fingers curled around the base of Bilbo’s cock and Bilbo fisted the sheets when Thorin took it in his mouth—

_“Thorin, stop!” Bilbo said, grabbing his arm. “Stop!”_

_Thorin punched Blotaz in the jaw, sending him to the floor before he pinned Bilbo to the wall again, crushing his lips to Bilbo’s. Bilbo gasped, trying to free his hands from Thorin’s grip and shove him off. Thorin pressed against Bilbo, biting his lip between his teeth._

Get him off! _Bilbo thought, trying to shove Thorin away._ Get him off!!—

Bilbo screwed his eyes shut and bit his lip. _No. I don’t want to remember. He was sick then. It’s different now. Please, I don’t want to remember. I love him. I want this._

“Bilbo?” Thorin’s hand touched his cheek. “Bilbo, what’s wrong?”

Bilbo gasped a sob, trying to hide his face from Thorin. “I’m sorry. I love you.” Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo. “I’m sorry, Thorin.”

Thorin kissed is cheek. “I’m not mad,” he said. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Bilbo bit his lip. “Is it me?” Bilbo breathed through his mouth as his nose got stuffed up.

“Please don’t hate me,” he whispered.

Whether Thorin heard him or not, he didn’t know. Thorin kissed his neck and tightened his embrace around Bilbo.

“I love you, Bilbo. And maybe we’re just not quite ready for this. I’m sorry I pushed you, sweetheart.” Bilbo shook his head.

“I shouldn’t feel this way,” he said. “I shouldn’t feel guilty for loving you or scared of you. I love you. This shouldn’t…I shouldn’t…”

“Bilbo, you need more time until you’re ready to have sex with me. That’s okay. There is _no shame_ in that. There is no shame in it. I did things to you that I am _not_ proud of and no amount of telling each other that I wasn’t in my right mind is going to make it any more forgivable. I love you and I can wait.”

“It’s frustrating,” Bilbo said. Thorin hummed.

“Yes. It is. But I don’t want you to break down crying like this when we are able to have sex. I want it to be enjoyable for both of us. I want you to be happy and carefree. Before, you were laughing and smiling. You were radiant. And _that_ is what I want to see when we make love. I love you, Bilbo. And I will wait as long as it takes.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo whimpered. Thorin hushed him, kissing his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Don’t ever be sorry. Never apologize for being uncomfortable.” Bilbo closed his eyes, gasping for breath again. “Littler steps, okay?” Thorin said. “We’ll get there. I promise.”

“How can you still be so patient?” Bilbo asked.

“Bilbo, I waited for _months_ for you to be able to kiss me. I’m not going to give up, but I am not going to pressure you, either. You’re not ready to have sex with me. I’m not mad. I admit I’m disappointed, but I’m not mad. I could never stay mad at you, sweetheart.”

Bilbo whimpered again and Thorin tightened his embrace, whispering assurances to him.

 _He deserves better_ , Bilbo thought as Thorin held him. _He deserves so much better_.

#

Bilbo splashed his face with cold water, hoping that’d do something for his red, tear-dried eyes. Downstairs, he could hear arguing of sorts and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was bothering Frerin so much that he’d actually start yelling at his siblings.

He’d have to go downstairs eventually, though.

Better now than later…

Still, Bilbo wasn’t sure if, even if he could go down and see what was wrong, he could look Thorin in the eye after his breakdown. It was simple. He was embarrassed and there was nothing else to it.

Bilbo walked down the stairs, warmly dressed and found Bolg sitting at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey.”

Bolg looked up and managed a weak smile. “Hey.”

“What’s going on?”

“Oh, you know: your boyfriend’s brother doesn’t want me here. I can’t blame him. Apparently, I look a little too much like my dad.”

“You’re _not_ your dad, Bolg.”

“I know that. You and Thorin know that. And Dis— _Mrs. Durin_ seems to be okay with me, but she kind of has this…look. It’s like she doesn’t know if she can trust me or not even though her kids seem to like me a bit. Not sure why.”

“Well…you’re a college student. Fili and Kili probably think you’re cool rather than the dweeb you are.”

Bolg didn’t respond to the teasing jibe and Bilbo pressed his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands. “Frerin’s issues are his issues. It is _not_ your fault that you look like Azog. He knows the source of his dislike for you and it’s understandable. It’s not _okay_ , but its understandable.”

“Will it ever be?”

“No.”

“What about you and Thorin?” Bolg asked, looking at him. “Are you okay?”

Bilbo looked at the wall. “The problems in our relationship will be worked out. He is sweet and patient and honestly, I do _not_ know why I had to meet him the way I did.”

“Were there any good parts about meeting him when he was in the asylum?” Bilbo glanced at him, startled. “It’s just…Dad used to say something about how people tend to let the bad get to them other than let the good stay. It’s like as humans we have a penchant for hate.” He scoffed. “Who thought that would be a lie.”

“It’s not. It’s actually very smart,” Bilbo said. “We do tend to hold onto the bad more than we do the good even though we know it’s not for the best. I suppose we get this sense of entitlement that if someone wrongs us, we can hold it over our offender’s head as we look for vengeance or justification. We want to hold onto our anger, but that’s _not_ healthy. I don’t know how your dad can be that wise and yet be guided by his own hatred.”

_Thorin touched his cheek._

_Bilbo almost jerked back, but met Thorin’s eyes instead. They were wide, glossy, his mouth slightly parted as he stroked Bilbo’s cheek as though amazed._

_He wanted to pull away from Thorin. His touch was slightly unnerving. Bilbo didn’t dare, hoping Thorin wouldn’t do anything untoward. He felt he had entered a staring contest with a tiger or a wolf and that any movement he made would give the animal inside a chance to attack._

_Thorin kept stroking his cheek, thumb brushing along Bilbo’s cheek bone under his eye._

_“You’re real,” Thorin whispered. “You’re really here.”_

_Bilbo grabbed Thorin’s wrist gently, pulling the hand away from his cheek. “Yes, I’m real,” he answered, letting go of Thorin’s wrist and following Blotaz out._

_“Wait! Don’t go!”_

“Bilbo?”

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just…I’m remembering things I thought I wanted to forget.” He straightened, remembering how gentle Thorin’s touch had been that day, the awe he wore on his face.

 _You’re real_ , he said…as though it was the most unbelievable thing in the world. Bilbo was just doing his job that day, but looking on it, his fear had made him cruel. It still made him cruel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...that didn't work out the way I wanted it to...who's up for a pwp outtake/mini-sequel?
> 
> I finished my new plot map for this story and HOPEFULLY it will be the last. However, with the way it ends, it is begging for a sequel (the usual kind). Said sequel is 50+ years in the future (2066, 2067) and young Frodo goes to live with Bilbo. The story I'm thinking of for it is this:
> 
> Frodo is a high school student who loses his parents and goes to live with his estranged, elderly cousin Bilbo in Northern Germany. There he learns about this unknown relative as well as find love with two people: Sam and Rose who attend his new school. He starts noticing odd things in his new home, beginning with the arrival of Sauron Annatar. Bilbo seems nervous after that and Frodo wants to know why which takes him on a quest about who Bilbo is and his history, which leads him to the Melkor Corporation, Erebor Tech, Thorin Durin, etc. (In this story, Bilbo and Thorin lived a life together and Thorin dies peacefully of old age before Frodo's arrival.) Frodo concludes that Sauron intends to restart his ww3 plan/conspiracy and Frodo teams up with some others to stop him. Bilbo is now in Gandalf's role.


	40. Chapter 40

“Oh! Bilbo, welcome back,” Balin said, shaking his hand. “How are you lad? Are you sure you’re ready to come back? I could give you another couple days off…”

“No, Balin. I’m good, but thank you. What have I missed?”

“Not much,” Balin said. “But we did get an unexpected new patient. His doctors think it’s safe to bring him here. Whether he really is best off in Moria or not, well, we’ll have to see.” Balin handed him a patient file. “I was _hoping_ to reassign you to a different wing, but we need all the available orderlies in D Wing today. Just in case.”

Bilbo opened the file. The picture showed a tall, black haired man and a dark, sadistic grin. He moved the picture out of the way to read the name: Roger Ballais, more commonly known as “Balrog.” Bilbo snorted at that at first, till he read what had demanded he seek medical attention.

Well, D Wing had volatile patients, but…

“Are you sure we want to take in a man this, er, violent? He killed ten men.”

“I know. And it’s not really our decision. But we did ‘fix’ Thorin.” Bilbo bristled. It must have showed because Balin patted his shoulder. “Those aren’t my words, lad. But they also specifically suggested you take the lead here.”

“If he gets obsessed with me…”

“He won’t,” Balin said. “Roger has religious paranoia coupled with a delusion disorder. He thinks he’s God’s warrior and that he’s been sent to kill denizens of hell.”

“Damn.”

“Aye,” Balin agreed. “Oh! Lurtz, Blotaz! Come help Bilbo, will you? Thank you, lads.”   

Blotaz patted Bilbo’s shoulder. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” Bilbo sighed, stretching as though dealing with a new patient was akin to running a marathon. He was as ready as he’d ever be as the van pulled up and two guards got out and opened the back, leading a tall, well-built man between them. Easily a foot and a half taller than Bilbo, and a head taller than Lurtz, Balrog sneered at them beneath his mask.

Bilbo’s eyes bugged. _Great_ , he thought. _How am I supposed to help this man again?_

Balin signed few papers and directed them to give Balrog Thorin’s old room. Bilbo sent Balin a scathing glare, but Balin just sighed.

“It’s the only one we have for him in the wing big enough to fit him,” he explained.

After that, there was little else to do but show him to his new room, outside the door, Balrog touched Bilbo’s hair, making him freeze. The hands were huge.

“Your hair is soft,” he said. “Like a bunny.”

He lowered his hand and Bilbo opened the door, letting Lurtz and Blotaz push Balrog inside. Balin came in after them and introduced himself to Balrog, who just stared, silent and perhaps a little unfocused, eyes constantly shifting to Bilbo. Once done, they left the room.

“See you around, little bunny,” Balrog said.

Bilbo shut the door and looked at Lurtz and Blotaz. “You don’t think he knows Beorn, does he?”

“No idea.”

“Maybe. You should ask him.”

“I will. I don’t like being called a bunny,” Bilbo muttered.

“Well, you are short,” Blotaz said.

“And cute,” Lurtz added.

“And you have a twitchy nose.”

“And you have a sniff thing.”

“I do not have a sniff thing!” Bilbo cried, glaring at them.

“Yes, you do,” Lurtz said. “It’s adorable.”

“Don’t worry, Bilbo, you’ll always be our bunny,” Blotaz teased.

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Just…if he falls in love with me…”

“Don’t worry, we won’t make the same mistake twice. Even if it _did_ work out between you and Thorin,” Blotaz said. Bilbo sighed and scratched the back of his head. “We’ll have Balin reassign you. Though Sméagol will miss you. He loves playing games with you.”

Bilbo ignored the comment about Sméagol and games. Sméagol was far from the ideal patient, but he was fun, if nothing else.

#

Thorin snarled into his phone while Bilbo did his homework. With a growl, he hung up and sat on the couch, pulling Bilbo’s legs onto his lap and massaged his forehead.

“Everything okay at work?”

“Yes,” Thorin said. “It’s about the new patient in Moria.”

Bilbo hummed. “Yeah. I met him.”

“I’m trying to convince Balin to put someone else on him instead. I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like him,” Bilbo said. “You won’t even have to see him. Balrog is my problem.”

“And I’ve the power to get rid of some of your problems,” Thorin snapped. “I should be able to at least have you put on a different wing or something but—”

“Dis?”

“Sadly, annoyingly…”

Bilbo kissed his cheek. “I don’t like it either. But I also didn’t like working with you, Thorin. You were very touchy-feely. If given half a chance, you’d try to touch my butt.”

“You have a nice butt,” Thorin said, kissing him. “A _very_ nice butt.”

“Thanks. I’m glad you approve. You have a nice butt, too.”

“Can we not talk about my brother’s backside until I’m out of the room?” Frerin asked, grabbing a glass and running it under the sink. “Thanks.”

Bilbo smirked. “It’s actually part of the reason I’m dating your brother, Frerin. It’s a very beautiful backside and I am honored to have the right to grab it.” Thorin’s cheeks tinged and he tried to vanish into the couch. Frerin glared at him. “In return, I let him grab mine. It’s only fair.”

“Fuck you, Bilbo,” Frerin snapped before leaving the room. Thorin glared at him.

“What?”

“Must you?”

“But it was the perfect opportunity!”

“Yeah, but when you act like you’re his little brother, it means you’re acting like _my_ little brother.”

“No,” Bilbo said. “I’m acting like a boyfriend who likes messing with his lover’s little brother because the little brother is an asshole at times. I like Frerin. Really, I do. But when he spouts homophobic shit like that, I _have_ to mess with him.”

“He’s not homophobic, I’ve dealt with that kind of shit all my life from him.”

“I know he’s not, but that’s…” Thorin hushed him.

“He’s a little brother. It is his lot in life to be a douche to me. Besides,” Thorin grinned and kissed him. “He and you teaming up is my worst nightmare.”

“But I’m on your side.”

“I know,” Thorin said. “That doesn’t mean you and my siblings won’t gang up on me once in a while.” Bilbo shook his head and pulled his legs out of Thorin’s embrace and readjusted his position so he could rest his head on Thorin’s shoulder.

“Only if you’re wrong will I work with your siblings,” he said, closing his eyes. “You’re shoulders are very comfortable.”

“No they’re not…where are you getting this idea?”

“From laying my head on them,” Bilbo said, smiling. “Where else would I get it?”

“I still don’t like you working with Balrog.”

“Neither do I, dear,” Bilbo said, snuggling closer to him. “Neither do I.”

#

Bilbo slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked out of the hospital, yawning and still cursing Balin for deciding to give him the night shift. Not because he worked it before—no one in their right mind would work nights…or early mornings if it could be helped.

But still, he stepped out of the building around ten o’clock and rubbed his eyes, thinking about getting coffee before heading back to the Durin’s…

“Mr. Baggins.”

Bilbo looked at the man who called to him and felt his heart rate quicken. Sauron arched a brow at him. “Might I have a word with you for a spell?” Bilbo swallowed and approached him.

“What do you want?” he asked. Sauron smirked.

“I was told you’re more polite than this.”

“I worked an eight hour night shift and have not had coffee or sleep,” Bilbo said. “Being polite is the last thing on my mind. You’ll have to forgive me.”

“I’ll make it quick then,” Sauron said, straightening and leading him to a coffee shack. He handed Bilbo a tall cup. “So, how are you and Thorin doing?”

Bilbo stared at the coffee in his hand before meeting Sauron’s gaze. “Why do you care?”

“Well, you do have a dark past with him. Didn’t he assault you a couple times? How do you feel about that? And please, don’t bring up how he acted then.”

“I fail to see where it’s any of your damn business.”

Sauron shrugged. “You’re trying to become a psychologist, right? With a Ph.D.? Why come to Germany? You could’ve done all that from the comfort of your home in London. Right?”

“Does it matter?” Bilbo asked. “I’m here.”

“It matters. Look, I want to offer you a job. You’re a brilliant young man, even if you have tied yourself to a sugar daddy.” Bilbo ground his teeth. “Rather than rely on Thorin’s income and move up the ranks from orderly to doctor, why not just go straight to being a doctor?” he wrote on a sheet of paper and handed it to Bilbo. “That’s my number and the sum you’d make in a year if you choose to work for me. Think about it.”

Bilbo ripped it up without looking. “I’m not interested,” he said. He took a step closer to him. “I don’t care about wealth. Let alone Thorin’s. All I give a fuck about is driving you and your cult into the ground. Thanks for the coffee.”

Bilbo strode away, feeling shaky.

_What did I just do?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.webmd.com/schizophrenia/guide/delusional-disorder is where I got some of the ideas for Balrog


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: choking/violence

Bilbo didn’t know what he was waiting for. Or what he expected to have happen.

So far, all seemed quiet. He went to work, visited patients, went home, did homework, and spent time with Thorin and his family as well as his own friends—specifically Bolg who tended to avoid being around the Durins as much as possible.

(Bilbo didn’t think that was fair. Certainly not for Bolg and definitely not for Frerin.)

Besides that, a sort of paranoia overtook Bilbo. Not a delusion. No. It’s one thing to see it in a patient who really had nothing to fear, but for him, who knew…He was getting tired of looking over his shoulder each time someone got to close to him on the street or a dark windowed car passed him by.

_Pull yourself together._

_But you did threaten the leader of a dangerous organization. I think being afraid is a normal post-threat response_ , the annoyingly reasonable voice in the back of his head reminded him.

He entered Moria’s grounds and entered the building, the smell of floor polish stung his nose and eyes. Bilbo wrinkled his nose and tried to balance it with the contrasting smell of coffee from the cup in his hand as he clocked in and went to the locker room to change.

His phone buzzed and he took a moment to check the text Thorin had sent him.

 

> _Packed a bag for you._

Bilbo furrowed his brow. What was Thorin talking about?

 

> _We’re leaving Berlin after you get off work this afternoon. See you at 6._

Well, on the one, that’s great. On the other, Bilbo’s growing sense of paranoia grew. What was this about? Why get out of town? For what purpose?

He went to the schedule board and checked his name, looking for his upcoming schedule tomorrow.

He usually worked weekends, but this weekend, from Friday to Monday, he had the days off. He’d ask Balin about that later. For now, he had to get his butt to D Wing. He met Lurtz and Blotaz outside. It was the usual routine. For a moment, Bilbo paused outside Thorin’s— _Balrog’s_ room.

“You okay?” Lurtz asked.

Bilbo looked at him. “Not particularly,” he admitted. He turned back to the door, steeled himself, and led them inside.

Balrog was sitting on his bed, eyes closed and mumbling under his breath, rocking back and forth.

“Roger,” Bilbo said. “It’s time for your shot.”

Balrog ignored him and Bilbo stepped forward and caught a few words of what he spoke:

“…defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.” He opened his eyes and looked at Bilbo. “Do you like it?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“The prayer? It’s the Prayer to St. Michael. The archangel.”

“I don’t believe in God,” Bilbo said. “As far as I’m concerned, the only evil here is within us.”

“You’re both right and wrong. You cannot say for sure what exists and what does not. Science can only go so far, after all.”

“Of course science has its issues, but that’s the beauty of it. You can know. You don’t have to guess.” Bilbo handed him a paper cup with pills in them.

“What’s wrong with mystery?”

“Nothing. But staying in the dark…that’s never a good thing. Rather than the Bible, I would suggest some Plato. _The Cave_ might really shed some light for you on human nature.”

Balrog took the meds, swallowed, and Bilbo checked his mouth. “I’ll consider it,” Balrog said. “By the way: you’re haunted. Do you know that?”

Bilbo stared at him. “I am. But my demons have human form.”

They left the room and Bilbo rolled his shoulders, letting out a long whoosh of air.

“That wasn’t as bad as Thorin,” Blotaz said.

“Yeah,” Bilbo said. “At least Thorin wasn’t religious…” They went to Sméagol’s room and Blotaz opened the door. Sméagol jumped out, slamming Blotaz against the wall and rounding on Bilbo and Lurtz.

“Where is it?!” he demanded. “Give it to us! Thieves!”

He jumped at Bilbo, hands closing around Bilbo’s throat. Bilbo gasped for air, tearing at Gollum’s hands. He couldn’t breathe and his vision was getting spotty before Gollum was pulled off him. Bilbo coughed, rolling off his back and massaging his neck.

Lurtz pinned Gollum to the wall and Blotaz gave him a sedative.

“Bilbo, are you okay?”

Bilbo nodded, getting back to his legs shakily. “Was his ring taken away?”

“No. Balin agreed that its’ best for him to just keep the damn thing,” Blotaz said. Bilbo strode inside the room. “What are you doing?”

“Help me look for it,” he said.

“It’ll turn up eventually,” Blotaz said.

Bilbo turned around and seized his collar. “You’d rather this happen again? Is that it?”

“He tried to kill you just now!”

“He loves that fucking ring and it keeps him calm. I don’t see how that’s bad.”

“You’re a good guy, Bilbo, but as a doctor in training, what is your diagnosis about the ring? It’s an obsession! An unhealthy obsession,” Blotaz said, pulling Bilbo off him. “You were just choked by the bastard and you still want to help him. I think that’s admirable, but also very stupid.”

“It’s not the first time he attacked someone because he lost it. Or was it you who took it?”

“I work with the crazy,” Blotaz said. “I’m not crazy myself.”

“Bilbo, if it doesn’t come up by tomorrow, we’ll look for it,” Lurtz said. “In the meantime, go tell Balin about this attack.”

Bilbo glared at them, but left, striding down the hallway in fast angry strides. He went to Balin’s office, alerted him to Sméagol’s outburst and was demanded to go home.

“What? I don’t—I have the next four days off.”

“You were just choked. You might want to pretend your fine and probably have convinced yourself that you are, but look at your hands. They’re shaking, Bilbo. Go home, calm down, enjoy your weekend.”

“Why do I have those days off? I didn’t request them?”

“No, but Thorin did.”

Bilbo groaned. He thought he told Thorin not to do that.

“He wanted to surprise you and I offered to give you the weekend off so that you could go with him wherever it is he wants to take you. I have an idea where and considering today’s events, I think time out of Berlin might help you calm down. We’ll find Sméagol’s ring by then and I will talk to him about these outbursts.”

Bilbo sighed. That would have to do.

After that, he left the office and went to his locker, texting Thorin that he was sent home early.

 

> _Meet me at the S-Bahnhof Schönhauser Allee_.

Bilbo hummed. He finished changing back into his civilian clothes and texted Thorin back:

 

> _What are you planning?_

A moment later, he had a reply:

 

> _Where’s the fun in that? Trust me._

Bilbo rolled his eyes.

 

> _I would like to at least drop my things off at home first._

He pocketed his phone and left Moria. A moment later, he had his reply:

 

> _Fine. We’ll go to the train station together. See you at home._

And that was the end of the conversation. His paranoia crept up on him as he walked down the street, hands stuffed in his pockets. It took everything in him to not look behind him.

#

“He what?!” Thorin shouted. “Is that ring he loves so much gone?”

“Its likely it just fell under the bed. He tends to panic first and that could interfere with his ability to actually calm the fuck down and look. But I’m okay.”

Thorin arched a brow at him, frowning.

“I have to believe I’m okay. All right? It’s not the first time he’s attacked anyone.”

“I don’t have to like it,” Thorin growled. Bilbo kissed him.

“No, you don’t. But here we are. Now where are we going again?”

Thorin’s lips curled into a smile. “Nice try.” He stood. “Ready to go?”

“As ready as I can ever be,” Bilbo said. “It’d be nice to know where I’m going, though.”

Thorin helped him up and gave him a gentle kiss that seemed to suck the tension out of Bilbo’s shoulders. “Trust me, you’ll not be disappointed,” he promised. “How about this: we’re going north.”

Bilbo arched a brow. “That’s it?”

“Well, I can’t give away _too_ much,” Thorin said.

“We can’t go south? Where it’s warm?”

“Trust me, you will not be disappointed with where we’re going.” With that, Thorin pushed Bilbo to the door. “You’ll _really_ like it. I’m certain.”

“Let’s hope your confidence doesn’t disappoint,” Bilbo teased, smirking at him. But once in the car and on the road, the paranoia returned and Bilbo stared out the window, hoping Thorin wouldn’t notice.

 _It’s the weekend!_ He told himself. _And I’ve not heard from Sauron at all! What could possibly go wrong?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jsyk, I am a Christian (spiritual, but not religious. My belief is that Jesus is the word of God, not the Bible due to certain…inconsistencies pointed out to me through classes with atheists and having my faith tested. So while I find the Bible important, I also think it’s outdated) and this prayer is one my cousin (who is a practicing Catholic. We agree on a lot of things but there are also things we do not agree on, ie: the necessity of birth control and homosexuality) sent me and much of what Balrog says is stuff I believe…now here’s the thing: I do trust science. I believe in Evolution and the Big Bang Theory, but I don’t put my faith in it because they’re still human constructs and even if they are true, anything that is created by humans, including science, is bound to let you down anyway.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! Yesterday was not the greatest...  
> TW: prelude to graphic violence at the end of this chapter.

Bilbo didn’t remember when he fell asleep, but he was gently shaken awake early in the morning and looked groggily up at Thorin. “We’re almost there.”

“At some bloody ungodly time in the morning?” Bilbo asked. “That’s it, now you _have_ to tell me where we’re going.” Thorin kissed his forehead.

“Sorry, not happening till we get there.”

“Arse,” Bilbo muttered, laying his head back on Thorin’s shoulder. “At least wake me when we’re actually _there_ if you’re not going to tell me anything about where we’re going.”

Thorin wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s. “My family has an estate up north called Mirrormere.”

“Like Thor’s hammer?” Bilbo asked.

“I wish,” Thorin chuckled. “It was built by a lake of that same name. Originally, the manor was called Khazad-Dum, but its name changed many times since over the decades. Eventually, Mirrormere just stuck.”

“And this manor of yours couldn’t be in the south?” Bilbo muttered.

“I hardly had any say it its foundations,” Thorin said. Bilbo hummed and opened his eyes again, looking out at the dawn.

“Still too early.”

“I’ll wake you when we’ve gotten there, then,” Thorin promised. Bilbo responded with an uncommitted sigh, still wondering what Thorin _thought_ waking him up so early, especially if it meant denying him as warm and comfortable a pillow as his shoulder.

But not long after he managed to drift back to sleep, he was woken again as they had arrived to their destination. As they gathered their belongings, Bilbo looked for a sign. One that preferably said: Welcome to _blank_ , but found none. Or if he did find it, his brain didn’t register it. He waited for Thorin to get the rental car, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

Thorin returned and they approached a silver sedan, loading their things in the car. They stopped at a café first for breakfast, the smell of eggs and sausages waking Bilbo up more than the coffee (though a second cup certainly didn’t hurt). While Thorin paid the bill, Bilbo thumbed through the pamphlets on a rotating rack. He grinned, finding how many where for _Stein, Germany_.

 _One mystery solved_ , he thought, grinning brightly. Once in the car, he stretched. “So,” he said, lowering his arms. “Besides your manor, what’s fun to do in Stein?”

Thorin sent him a mock-glare. “Well, there’s Faberwald, which is a park just on the borders of the town. Very peaceful, nice place to walk a dog or go on a run,” he smirked when Bilbo wrinkled his nose. He didn’t like the idea of running. At all. “And there’s also Kristall Palm Beach…it’s not the best and has mixed reactions, but if the weather holds…”

“Thorin, it’s still March. No one in their right mind would be going to the beach at this time.”

“Who says you can’t at least walk on the beach in March?” Thorin asked. Bilbo blushed.

“I suppose if the weather’s good…”

“There’s also a castle we could visit: _Graf von Faber-Castell’sches Schloss_ ,” Thorin continued. “And there’s also the ‘Old Mine’ Museum, if you’re interested in old factories…as in around late nineteenth century to early twentieth century old.”

“Is it is a mining factory?” Bilbo asked.

“It used to be,” he said. “They made, uh, pens, pencils, colored pencils, crayons, I think.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said, “That’s…interesting.”

“The most interesting part is the process,” Thorin said. Bilbo could agree with that. T _he historic art of pencil making_ , he thought, _very interesting._

Admittedly, he was a little curious. “They must have moved the factory, though.” Thorin nodded.

“But all that is for tomorrow,” he said, “Today, I should give you a tour of Mirrormere. You know: just so you don’t get lost.”

“You could also lay down some different colored string. That way all I have to do is follow the color to where it is I want to go.”

“While I would like to do that, it’d be a little hard to explain to Dis and Dwalin why I put up different colored string everywhere and all that would do is get me mocked by both of my siblings more than usual.” Bilbo leaned against his seat and laughed. “It’s not that funny. I have an extremely bad sense of direction.”

“Should I be trusting you behind the wheel then?”

“Shut up. I get enough of that from my siblings. I don’t need it from you too.”

“I love you,” Bilbo said, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “So don’t look so grumpy.”

“I thought you knew by now that ‘grumpy’ was my default setting,” Thorin said. Bilbo snorted and Thorin turned onto a gravel path.

The gravel crunched and crackled under the car and Bilbo stared at the canopy of trees on either side of the path till they arrived at a cleared area where a tall, brick and stone house stood beside a large lake. It stood several stories high with a triangular roof with two chimneys on either side of the house and a turreted tower on the right beside a newer addition jutting out in front of the tower (Bilbo guessed it was “new” in that it did not match the rest of the house, since it was mostly white compared to the red and grey of the rest of the house.

For someone unused to manors, it did seem quite luxurious, but Bilbo had spent a few summers in a similar house back in England with his grandparents. In fact, he’d argue that the Tuckborough Estate, which belonged to the Took family, was perhaps a bit bigger than this.

“Impressed?” Thorin asked, parking the car.

Bilbo snorted as they climbed out and gathered their bags. “A bit, but you forget: my family’s rich too.”

“Right: General and knighted grandfather with twelve children. Or was it was fourteen?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Bilbo admitted. He followed Thorin to the door. “There were a lot. They lived in a house very much like this one because of how many kids they had. But, of course, they don’t use it as much anymore.”

“God, you’re difficult to impress!” Thorin exclaimed, looking for the key. “Does that mean I should get a castle?” he asked, grinning.

“No. That would be a waste of money. What would you do with a castle?”

“I can think of a few things.”

“Thorin, I don’t need to be impressed,” Bilbo said. The door opened and they walked in as Thorin tried the lights, muttering about the breaker under his breath. Bilbo embraced him. “I love you. Is that not enough?”

“For me? Yes, but at the same time, why shouldn’t I try to impress you?” he kissed Bilbo. “Wait here.” He broke away from Bilbo’s arms and ran back outside.

Bilbo left the door open and strode deeper down the hall. For a usually empty house, it was well kept. There was hardly any dust, nor a musty smell in the air. Despite the many antiques displayed, everything seemed quite well kept. He guessed that there were people hired to keep the house in check, or Thorin had someone come by to clean it before they arrived.

It was something he’d have to ask Thorin about later.

The lights came on and Bilbo could see the inside of the house far more clearly. He walked on a clean, blue damask rug. There was a coat and hat rack by the door and a place for shoes to be kept. On the walls were paintings of each member of the Oakenshield line. Most were paintings and the one at the end of the hall was a man in sixteenth century regalia with a saber strapped to his waist. Beside him was a battle ax held up by his hand at the very top of the handle.

“His name is Durin Eichenschild,” Thorin said. “The first. He was in the King’s army and named Deathless because of how many wars he survived before he was taken by my family’s…uh…strain of schizophrenia. He found the Arkenstone first and for a bit, it was passed down as an heirloom, but after a couple generations, it was hidden. My ancestors were superstitious. They thought that if they got rid of the stone, they’d stop the ‘curse.’” He stood beside Bilbo. “Of course it didn’t and then just before my grandfather got sick, he found the stone here in the house. By then, we knew enough to know it was a hereditary illness that we probably couldn’t stop no matter what we tried.”

“Wow. And I thought my family obsessed over the family tree,” Bilbo said. “But I certainly can’t trace it back as far as the fifteen hundreds. Only to the mid-eighteenth century. And that’s just my mother’s side. Mid-nineteenth on my father’s…” Thorin rubbed his back. “I can see the resemblance,” Bilbo continued. “The eyes and nose are very similar, but your features are still sharper. Wait. His first name is Durin? Like Dwalin’s _last_ name?”

Thorin nodded. “Yeah, we had the same reaction when we found out. We’re very distantly related. So much so, that it’s not that big a deal to me and it certainly doesn’t muck up the genetics.”

“Doesn’t that mean he’s also a carrier for hereditary schizophrenia?”

“Yeah, but it’s not actually come up in his family for ages, but it’s very likely Kili will…well, at least he’ll know how to handle his schizophrenia when it comes and hopefully it won’t happen to him as young as it happened to me. Trust me, I know it’s necessary, but I really do not like that I have to take antipsychotics for the rest of my life.”

Bilbo frowned. “He’s a pretty happy and healthy kid, but no one can be sure. I don’t think age is going to play a part in whether or not he’ll get sick or not.” He patted Thorin’s cheek. “You’re a good man and both of your nephews are lucky to have you for an uncle. And your brother and sister seem pretty healthy so far. It’s likely they’ll be okay…that doesn’t mean they won’t…and I think I’ll just shut up. You promised me a tour, but do try not to get us lost in your own house.”

Thorin chuckled, stealing another kiss. “Sure. Now, if you like, you can have your own room, but I was thinking of sharing a bed—not that I’m—”

“Thorin,” Bilbo pressed a finger to his lips. “I trust you.” He grinned. “But if you start humping me in your sleep, I reserve the right to kick you.”

“Cruel, but fair,” Thorin said, taking Bilbo’s hand and kissing his wrist. “Our room’s upstairs.” Hands still entwined, Bilbo let himself be guided to their room. There was a measure of giddiness mixed with apprehension thrumming under his skin.

http://images4.c-ctrip.com/target/hotel/337000/336600/ebaf28b841a3471694f12fe3d0cf758b_550_412.jpg

 

http://aff.bstatic.com/images/hotel/max500/505/5059028.jpg

#

“Have you found it yet?”

“No.”

“God damn it! Where is that damn thing?!”

Sméagol wailed, straining against the bonds. He had a gag fitted between his teeth to keep him from biting his tongue off.

“Maybe we should give him another sedative?”

“Balin said no. Just keep looking for it. He’ll calm down eventually.”

“Ugh, can’t he stop crying? I’ve a headache.”

“Shut up and keep looking.”

They were cut off by a loud shriek and paused, looking out the small window. Blood splattered over the window and the orderlies froze, fear trailing up their spines. Sméagol’s screams shifted from distraught to horrified when he caught sight of the blood, too.

The doorknob twisted and the orderlies slammed against it, aiming to lock the door.

Sméagol never stopped screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mirrormere Manor is inspired by ulrichshusen manor in Moltzow, Germany. It's a hotel now, but was built in the 16th c.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might needs tissues...  
> TW: Character Death

Thunder boomed and lightening flashed outside. Bilbo walked down the hall, carrying hot chocolate in his hands, trying to find Thorin, but waylaid by a weeping woman. He followed her. “Excuse me? Ma’am? Are you all right?” He turned the corner and she was gone. Bilbo sighed. _I need to get back to Thorin_. He turned around and the woman stood in front of him. Bilbo gasped. She wore a Victorian wedding dress and veil which hid her face. She latched onto his throat—

Bilbo woke with a gasp, head jolting off the pillow for a second before laying it back down. The room was dimly lit by sunlight streaming in from outside. _Just a dream_ , he thought, sighing, as he watched Thorin sleep. Bilbo tried to figure out what the dream meant.

A woman. Wedding dress. Choking. Coffee. Storm…

He bit his lip and sighed, pressing his nose against Thorin’s collarbone. Thorin’s arms tightened around him. He wouldn’t admit it any time soon, but Bilbo did find Thorin’s embrace quite comforting right now. Still, he didn’t want to go back to sleep, so he wiggled out of Thorin’s arms.

“Where are you going?” Thorin asked groggily.

“Bathroom,” Bilbo said. His legs shook beneath him.

“You’re shaking.”

“I had a nightmare,” Bilbo said, wrapping his robe around him and putting some slippers on. The floors were cold. Thorin sat up.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Uh…later. I need to pee.” He kissed Thorin and escaped to the bathroom. Once he had done his business and washed his hands, he splashed his face with cold water, trying to pull himself together and remember what he studied about dreams.

_I know I’ve a dream dictionary somewhere…damn it…_

Thorin knocked on the door and Bilbo stepped out. “Do we get internet?” Thorin blinked, taken aback.

“Yes. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about—”

“I do. It would help. I just…need to know what it’s supposed to mean first before I—” He swallowed and stepped back into the bedroom, kissing Thorin’s cheek. “I’m okay. Really.” Thorin frowned and Bilbo picked up his laptop, opening it and going to dreammoods.com, looking up the dream dictionary before writing down key features of the dream.

He started with the weeping woman, which wasn’t featured on the website. Still, a weeping woman, or a woman in white, was a ghost story of a woman whose husband cheated on her and went mad. In her madness, she killed her children and then herself. What made this particular weeping woman interesting was that she wore a wedding dress.

So he began there.

 _To wear a wedding dress in your dream indicates that you are evaluating and assessing your personal relationship._ _If you or someone is wearing a wedding dress in an inappropriate situation, then it suggests that you are feeling inferior or unworthy._

_Dreaming that you are searching for a wedding dress on the day of your wedding means that you are trying to find your role in a situation. You are afraid of not fitting in._

Bilbo massaged his forehead. That wasn’t helpful. He sighed. _Wedding dresses usually symbolize the “purity” of the bride_ , he reminded himself. _But a weeping woman is anything but pure, representing sorrow and betrayal followed by horror, so…perhaps her wearing the dress represents death more than purity. And the madness of the weeping woman in life has more to do with her life and its state._

Bilbo scratched his chin as a terrible, heartbreaking thought hit him: _could the weeping woman actually be Thorin?_

After that, he decided to focus on the coffee. The website stated that:

_To dream that you are drinking or need your coffee suggests that you need to gain some insight and knowledge before making a decision or tackling some project/relationship. You may be acting too hasty and need to slow down. Alternatively, it may imply a need for you to change your routine._ _To dream that you are drinking coffee with someone indicates that you might have feelings for that person. Alternatively, having coffee with someone denotes your hospitality and sociability._

_To see a coffee pot in your dream signifies hospitality and sharing of knowledge, hopes, concerns and/or ideas. It may also represent neighborliness, comfort, and companionship. Dreaming of dry coffee grounds refers to your readiness for change. To dream that you have a mouth full of dry coffee grounds point to a decision that you are having a hard time accepting._

But he _wasn’t_ drinking coffee. He did agree, though, that it may have something to do with his feelings for Thorin. Still, if drinking it with someone meant you had feelings for them, would _not_ drinking it mean you have yet to accept these feelings? Having them, and knowing you have them, but unable to fully accept them.

From there, why would the weeping woman choke him?

_…_ _To dream that someone is choking you indicates that you are suppressing your emotions. You have difficulties in expressing your fears, anger, or love. Consider the phrase "being all choked up". Alternatively, you may feel that you are being prevented or restricted from freely expressing yourself…_

Thorin returned to the bed, arm wrapped around Bilbo’s shoulder and rested his chin on Bilbo’s other shoulder. “You dreamt about being choked?!”

“That was part of it,” Bilbo said. “It’s more complex than that.”

“I think there’s a fortune teller—”

“Thorin, I’m a psychologist,” Bilbo said. “Well, studying to be one, anyway. I can interpret my own dreams for free.”

He summarized the dream and while he didn’t want to explain each detail, he did. From that he thought the weeping woman represented Thorin to the coffee being about his reluctance in their relationship.

“And the _Victorian_ wedding dress?”

“Well, a wedding dress usually has to do with new beginnings, relationships, commitment. Being a dress from two hundred years ago probably has something to do with your family’s history with madness, symbolized by the weeping woman. All in all, I think my dream is about my reluctance in our relationship even though I want it. I love you and I don’t want to be scared of you. Since getting appropriate medication, I’ve had no reason to be scared of you.”

Thorin took the laptop away and pulled Bilbo into his lap, arms wrapped securely around his waist. “You know I would never hurt you.”

“That’s not what the choking means. It’s more to do with suppressed feelings.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier to experience,” Thorin said.

“Maybe I should just see a professional—”

“And tell them what? You’re an orderly trying to become a registered psychologist living with a former patient whom has a history of violence and obsession before getting proper treatment. It makes sense that you would be scared of me.” Thorin’s voice cracked a little and Bilbo felt his heart break again. He couldn’t keep doing this to him.

“I think I will see someone anyway. They might not like that we’re together, but that’s not their business. I love you. I _know_ I love you. I don’t know how to get past this…doubt, I think. It’s like what if your medicine stops working? What if something goes wrong and you become…whom you were when we met. What if I become the monster you used to see—”

Thorin hushed him. “I love you, Bilbo.”

“But for how much longer?”

“You completely underestimate how much I love you,” Thorin said. “At the height of my madness, I loved you. I saw _you_ , not a monster. Not a demon. _You_. And when I was sane again, I tried to push away because I knew I hurt you and I knew you would want to keep your distance. I was trying to make it easier for both of us and I failed. I still loved you and you said you loved me, too, despite how much I hurt you. And I think that is getting between us: that I have hurt you. It doesn’t matter how sane I was then, I don’t want to be excused for that because it clearly is on your mind all the time.” Thorin sighed, hiding his face in Bilbo’s shoulder. “I love you so much and I don’t know how I can fix this, Bilbo.”

Bilbo felt tears stain his shoulder and he turned around, cupping Thorin’s face and kissed his eyes, his cheeks, and his lips. “You are not doing anything wrong, Thorin,” he said. “You haven’t done anything wrong—let’s not worry about this, yeah? Please? It’s just a dream. Let’s go to Faberwald after breakfast. Some fresh air would do us some good. Don’t cry, sweetheart. Please don’t cry—”

Their phones went off and Thorin got off the bed, clearing his throat. Bilbo grabbed his phone.

“Hello?” Thorin said.

Bilbo answered. “Yes?”

“ _Bilbo, thank God your all right!_ ” Blotaz said. “ _I was worried that you would be there when it happened—_ ”

“Whoa, Blotaz, slow down. What happened?”

“ _Moria’s gone. There was a riot last night. Inmates and doctors and nurses are dead. Lurtz was—let’s not go there. And Dr. Durin’s dead too._ ”

Bilbo jumped when Thorin let out an enraged yell, striding out of the room. “Dead?” he repeated. “But…was there a reason for the patients to riot? Was it really that bad?”

“ _No. We still don’t know what happened! The cops are still looking through the debris. Sméagol’s gone. There’s no sign of him and I know he was mad at you earlier and everyone is thinking it’s Balrog. It likely is…I wouldn’t put it past him. Just be careful._ ”

“Honestly, right now, I’m in Stein with Thorin…Oh, God.”

He leaned forward, groaning as his stomach did flips. If it was Balrog, could it also have something to do with the Melkor Corporation? _And here I was hoping the worst I’d have to deal with would be calming Thorin down_ , he thought. “Okay. Thank you for telling me, Blotaz. Any idea what happens next?”

“ _Outside of having no job? None_.”

“There are other hospitals.”

“ _I don’t know if I want to go back to working with the mentally ill_!”

“There are safer clinics, I’m sure of that. They can’t blame us. We didn’t have any part.”

“ _I’ll probably just…go to a normal hospital as a nurse. I mean, they do need more male nurses, right_?”

“Sure. Whatever. I just…I’m going into psychology. This is the sort of thing I want to _prevent_ from happening…”

“ _You know, you don’t have to work at an insane asylum, Bilbo. After this, I would avoid it_.”

Bilbo sighed. “You do what you want. I’m not letting this disaster get in my way.” He could still hear Thorin yelling outside. “Why should it? Thank you for letting me know. I’ll see you around, Blotaz.”

“ _Yeah. See you around._ ”

He hung up and Bilbo set his phone down before stepping out of the room into the hallway. Thorin looked at him briefly before looking away. Bilbo was almost startled by how angry Thorin looked. There was real rage in his eyes. Thorin snapped goodbye and hung up, slamming his phone against a table.

“Balin—”

“I know,” Bilbo said. “That was a co-worker—former co-worker.” Thorin massaged his forehead. “Should we go home?”

Thorin shrugged. “I don’t know. I feel we should…Balin was family, you know, but…I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Bilbo stepped forward tentatively and wrapped his arms around Thorin’s waist. “I love you,” he said. Thorin stiffened and Bilbo felt his eyes sting. “You believe me, right?” Thorin didn’t respond, save to pull away and head toward the stairs. “Thorin?” Still no response as he descended the steps.

_Be reasonable. His brother-in-law’s brother had just been killed. He probably just needs to be alone for a bit. Yeah. That’s it. That’s all it is. He knows you love him._

But it didn’t stop doubt from clawing at him.

_Have I pushed him away again without meaning to?_


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead!

Bilbo wasn’t sure if he had done the right thing telling Thorin about his dream. But since the call alerting them to the riot at Moria that morning, nothing really felt…right. They went on their walk around Faberwald, hands clasped together, and went to a café on the docks at the edges of the Baltic Sea.

But the tension seemed ready to snap and Bilbo didn’t know how to diffuse the situation without the whole thing ending in a fight, so he kept his mouth shut and let Thorin squeeze his hand a little too tightly.

Thorin was in line getting them something to eat for lunch before possibly heading to the castle if they were up for it. They probably weren’t.

Bilbo stirred his teaspoon in the small, porcelain cup full of Earl Gray, the sugar long dissolved and now murky from cream. He glanced outside at the bright day and wondered why it had to be so bright outside when he felt as though he’d much rather prefer London’s dreary rain right about now.

He looked back at Thorin, watching him return with some sandwiches. He set one in front of Bilbo.

“Are you mad at me?” Bilbo blurted out.

Thorin looked up at him. “I was…upset,” he said carefully. “And I still am. It’s been a hard day and you know very well why. From your dream and your interpretation of it to what happened at the hospital—it’s a lot to take in and it hurts that you still do not trust me—”

“I do trust you, but I do not trust myself,” Bilbo corrected. “I have no reason _not_ to trust you. And I don’t know how to talk about it or whom I should talk to.”

“And you can’t talk to me about your own doubts?” Thorin asked. “It’s a bad day. Nothing more than that. We’ll get over it. And I wish I could say I’m patient, but I’m not. I’ve never been very patient. And I have tried for months to pretend that we’re okay. I know you’re scared of me, it’s obvious, you admitted it. But _we_ never talk about it. You’re always talking to someone else about this, and you never come to me. You’ve spoken to Dis, to Frerin, to Balin, to Gandalf—but not me. Not in depth and I’m tired of having to peel back layers.”

He clamped his jaws shut and stared at his sandwich. Bilbo excused himself to the bathroom, appetite gone. He locked himself in a stall and bit his lip, trying to keep his voice locked in his throat, whimpers escaping instead as he sat down and tore at his hair and wondered:

_How could a dream set this off?_

He didn’t know how long he sat there, weeping silently. It didn’t feel long when he heard the door open.

“Bilbo?” Thorin called, followed by a door shutting behind him. He swallowed and stepped out of his stall. “Do you want to eat?”

Bilbo shook his head.

Thorin approached him and embraced him, kissing the top of his head and dragging his nails up and down Bilbo’s back. “I love you, Bilbo. I want this to work, but I need you to talk to me. I need you to meet me halfway.”

If he opened his mouth, tried to speak, he didn’t think he could do it. It’d all just come out and he didn’t want that here—not in a place where anyone could see them.

“Let’s go back to the manor, yeah?”

Bilbo nodded and stepped out of Thorin’s embrace, wiping his tears on his sleeves.

“I’m sorry. I—”

Thorin shook his head. “I wasn’t lying about it being a bad day. Everyone has them and we will get through this. Bilbo, there is so much more than your dream that is bugging me today: you lost your job, I lost a friend and brother. There is the Melkor Corporation, and Sauron and…look at me.”

Bilbo looked up, blinking. Thorin cupped his face and pressed their foreheads together.

“I want to get past this with you. Someday, I want to call you my husband, even if we are not able to marry legally. For all the times I’ve been in love, I’ve _never_ been so sure of loving someone before. When I see you, I picture a future I never thought I’d even be able to believe in. I never believed I’d find someone I could want a child with or that I would even want a child. I love you and I want a future with you, but we _need_ to stop pretending that everything is okay when it’s not.”

“I know,” Bilbo whispered. “And I agree with you and I don’t understand how you can still love me so much. I really don’t. Haven’t I hurt you enough?”

“Are you even trying to?”

Bilbo shook his head.

“Then why should I give up before we really have a chance?” Thorin kissed his forehead and took his hand. “I’m not ashamed of this. I never have been. And,” he held their joined hands up. “I know you aren’t either. I love you, Bilbo Baggins. I want this to work and I am not giving up while there is hope for us. I know I hurt you in the past, right mind or not, it still affects you and I will do everything in my power to make it up to you, even if it takes a lifetime.”

Bilbo chuckled dryly. “Thank you. I don’t know whether to find that hopeful or beat myself up more for being a crap boyfriend.”

“You are _certainly_ not a crap boyfriend,” Thorin said.

Bilbo arched a brow, but Thorin didn’t rescind the lie. He kissed Bilbo’s hand.

“Let’s go to the manor, okay?” Bilbo nodded and let himself be led out of the restaurant, ignoring the stares—friendly, shocked, confused, and hostile—sent toward them.

Bilbo grabbed Thorin’s wrist with his free hand and laid his head on his shoulder. He desperately wanted to believe they could get through this and if this ended up being the end—which he hoped it wouldn’t be—then he wanted it to be a memory he could cherish.

#

Thorin set the tea tray on the table and sat beside Bilbo on the veranda. The sun glistened on the lake and birds sang in the trees. It really was a beautiful area.

“I don’t scare easily,” Bilbo admitted.

Thorin looked at him.

“Just the other day when Sméagol attacked me, I wasn’t afraid,” he touched his throat. “I don’t know what it was about you loving me then that scared me. Back then, it felt wrong. It was manipulative on my part and everyone else’s. Like I let myself be used to calm you down and when you kissed me that first time, I never felt that scared before.” He swallowed. “And I didn’t want to go back into your room because of it, but you were so violent and out of control that I knew I needed to be there if only for my co-workers’ sake. And when I came back, despite everyone’s best interest, you just fell to your knees, threw your arms around me and cried. You said you loved me, that you were sorry, and that you needed me. At the time, I just attributed it to your obsession with me. I didn’t think you really loved me. I couldn’t let myself believe you because if I did, I would fall in love with you. And then I did fall in love with you and I so wanted what I felt to be Stockholm because then I could convince myself what I feel for you wasn’t real. I didn’t want to fall in love with you and I don’t know why I didn’t want to love you as much as I do and now I’m here and I am scared of being the one abandoned instead because my insecurities are too much for you.”

 Thorin handed him a tea cup and wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders.

“Remember how after I started getting better, I tried to push you away?”

Bilbo nodded.

“I knew I hurt you and I knew I had scared you. I told myself you wouldn’t want me. That I was too damaged, too flawed…you were always so beautiful and I didn’t want to muddy you with my own crap. You found out about my brother, and about my own history and I was certain you’d run the other way. And then you didn’t and I couldn’t stop loving you as much as I wanted to believe that my obsession with you was just part of my sickness. I truly believed you wouldn’t want me. You’re young with your life ahead of you, and I’ve lived nearly half of mine all ready. Not that I would call what I was doing most days living. More…I was just going through the motions, really, and more trying to not let my family’s legacy catch up with me. You think you were manipulative. At first, maybe you were, but then you were working so hard to save me. I will never be able to pay you back for finding out what was really going on while Azog was there. And I’ve never thanked you for that. Not really, anyway. And I should have thanked you every day since.”

Bilbo finished drinking his tea and set it down with shaking hands before laying his head back on Thorin’s shoulder and closed his eyes as Thorin began to play with his hair.

“I couldn’t not love you if I tried, and I did try. You completely lured me in and I am well and caught.”

Bilbo looked at him. “Can we get through this?”

“I like to think so,” Thorin said. “Be it our own insecurities or outside forces, we’ll get through it.” Bilbo lowered his eyes to Thorin’s torso and swallowed. He placed his hand over Thorin’s heart, feeling the steady rhythm. He looked up again, meeting Thorin’s gaze.

Bilbo leaned forward, pressing his lips to Thorin’s, fingers curling around Thorin’s shirt. Thorin returned the kiss and his hand moved to Bilbo’s hip. Bilbo straddled Thorin’s waist and licked at the seam of Thorin’s mouth. Thorin groaned, allowing Bilbo to slip his tongue past his teeth.

Thorin slid his hands under Bilbo’s shirt. “Too cold?” he asked. Bilbo shook his head and unbuttoned Thorin’s shirt before daring to kiss his neck. Thorin gripped his hair. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Bilbo—”

“ _Yes_ , I’m certain. Or would you rather go inside first?” Bilbo asked, frowning. “Or do you not want me to?”

“I am not asking for myself. I don’t want you to feel obligated to do this.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I _don’t_ feel obligated. I want to. I swear it.”

Thorin’s grip slackened and Bilbo returned to giving his chest attention. He slid off Thorin’s lap and kissed the trail leading below his waist. Bilbo poked the button out of its loop and undid the fly. He pulled Thorin’s cock free and stroked it lazily, watching Thorin:

The rise and fall of his chest…

The steady deepening of each breath and gasp…

Bilbo lowered his gaze, halting his ministrations and kissed the tip. Thorin gasped and Bilbo kissed along the length, feeling Thorin’s muscles slacken. Bilbo pressed his tongue against the slit and closed his lips around the head, slowly growing bolder as Thorin’s fingers tangled in his hair and tugged almost painfully. Bilbo’s free hand pinched Thorin’s knee and hummed as Thorin tensed and relaxed in intervals. He moved his hands to either side of his hips and gripped the bench just an orgasm ripped through him and spilled in Bilbo’s mouth. Bilbo swallowed him down and stood, licking his lips as Thorin came down from his high, still looking quite debauched as he gripped Bilbo’s hips and pulled him back.

“May I?”

“Please,” Bilbo said as Thorin palmed him through his jeans. “Please,” he whispered, gripping Thorin’s shoulders.

Thorin undid the fly and slid his rough hand against Bilbo’s cock, fingers curling around it. They slotted their mouths together. Thorin pumped his arm, calluses rubbing around smooth flesh and Bilbo shuddered, feeling electric currents rush under his skin. Thorin’s free hand braced the back of Bilbo’s neck, swallowing each moan that poured from Bilbo’s throat.

“So close,” Bilbo breathed.

Thorin smirked and squeezed a little harder, drawing the pad of his thumb around the slit and Bilbo bit his lip, digging his nails into Thorin’s shoulders as he came. Once the aftershocks ended, he released Thorin’s mouth and winced.

“Your lip.” Apart from kiss-swollen, there was a tooth-sized gash in the middle of it.

Thorin snorted. “I think I had it coming.” Bilbo reached up and brushed the pad of his thumb against the edge of Thorin’s lip. Thorin winced, pulling away. “I’ll get some ice for it. How are you feeling? Not traumatized or—”

“That is _not_ funny.”

“I wasn’t making fun,” Thorin said. “I don’t want you regretting this.”

Bilbo slid off Thorin and sat beside him, legs pressed together and eyes closed. He heard Thorin shuffling beside him. “I don’t,” he said. “I didn’t even think about it. I guess I’m…I don’t know…more okay than I thought I was." Thorin hummed, wrapping an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders. Bilbo opened his eyes. “Are we going to be okay?”

Thorin’s fingers found his hair again. “Little by little, _Schatz_ ,” Thorin said. “We’ll get there. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...nothing's really okay between them yet, but...they're getting there?
> 
> German:  
> Schatz=darling/sweetheart/treasure?
> 
> Excuse me while I hide under a desk. *hides*


	45. Chapter 45

Bilbo smoothed down his jacket as he waited for the others to meet him outside the house. The sky was a dull grey with sunlight poking through the veil of clouds every so often. Finally, Thorin stepped out, hair slicked back and beard trimmed. “How is he?” Bilbo asked.

“Well, he’s not pushing his family away, or punching holes in the wall. It’s a win, considering…” Bilbo nodded. Thorin embraced him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Bilbo said. Thorin didn’t release him. Not yet. For a moment, he thought Thorin might tell him something about his past. He said nothing, and hid his face in Bilbo’s shoulder. And then he let go, huffed a sigh, and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“They’ll be out in a moment,” Thorin said, as though it was enough to assure Bilbo that they’d not be late to Balin’s funeral. Or perhaps he wanted to convince himself. Bilbo didn’t know. He never really talked to Balin much, though he did like him. At last, the others came out and Thorin drove them to the funeral home. Beside him, Dwalin seemed shrunken, as though a part of him died with Balin. Kili cuddled up to his brother, picking at his suit with a frown. Dis and Fili both were as stoic as statues.

In that moment, Bilbo realized how much like his mother Fili actually looked like. And Frerin just stared out the window. All in all, it was a rather sobering trip to the funeral house. Gandalf met them outside with a bouquet of flowers. He spoke quietly with Dwalin, who shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Dis looped her arm around his as they conversed.

“What are they talking about?” Kili asked, latched onto Bilbo’s hand.

“I don’t know,” Bilbo said. “Come on, let’s go get our seats.” He glanced at Thorin, who nodded and they followed him into the funeral home. It was eerily quiet and their footsteps echoed. Kili held tighter to Bilbo’s hand. Once seated, Kili decided he had enough of Bilbo and wanted to sit on Thorin’s lap. Then later, on Dwalin’s when his parents finally came in and joined them. The service felt like a blur. A few words here. A song there. Escorting the coffin to the gravesite set aside for Balin. Another song as the coffin is lowered into the ground…

After that, it was the reception at the house and leaving Thorin and Frerin to deal with a suddenly petulant Kili, who didn’t understand why he couldn’t get out of his stuffy suit just yet. Bilbo sighed and massaged his forehead for a moment before looking around and spying Sauron approaching them. He grit his teeth.

“I apologize I couldn’t be here for the service,” he said. Dis clutched at Dwalin’s arm. “Work, you know. But I am sorry for your loss.”

“Sorry?!” Dwalin bellowed. “You piece of shit—”

Frerin and Thorin took his arms and Bilbo stepped between them. “I suggest you leave,” he said. “This is a family only event.”

“And you’re family?”

“I like to think I am.”

Sauron arched a brow. “My condolences to your family. Must be hard, losing a relative and employer in one go. If you need a job, Mordor is always looking for new talent. Even in this economy.”

“You son of a—”

“I’ll take my chances,” Bilbo said. “Now I strongly suggest you leave.” Sauron smirked, bowed his head once and left. Once they were certain he was gone, they left with heavy hearts and frazzled nerves.

#

“Tell me,” Gandalf said, sitting beside Bilbo. “Why did Sauron offer you a job?”

Bilbo glanced at him and bit his lip. “To be honest, it’s not the first time. He approached me once earlier, before the riot, and offered me a job at his company.”

“That may be what we need,” Gandalf said. “He wants you and Bolg is also being pressured to join his cause. _Perhaps_ , if you changed your mind, we could find information on his plans. I am right in thinking that once they’re on the internet, it, uh, spreads. Correct?”

“I think you mean ‘going viral.’ Yes, if it’s insane enough, popular enough, it will go viral… _oh_.”

“You agree, then?”

“I do. Thorin’s going to hate this.”

“Indeed he will,” Gandalf said. He squeezed Bilbo’s shoulder. “I will speak with Bolg, tell him he won’t be joining the Melkor Corporation alone. All in all, I think we’ve let them run about long enough.”

“More than enough,” Bilbo agreed. “Gandalf, Thorin can’t know until I’m already in. And that is considering if he _must_ know. I won’t lie to him, but I will do this if it means putting this madness to rest.” Gandalf nodded and stood, mumbling about finding Bolg. Bilbo inhaled and exhaled slowly, hoping he could, in fact, do this.

#

“You want to _what_?!” Bolg hissed. Bilbo shushed him.

“Calm down. If you think about it, it’s a good idea.”

“How?” Bolg asked, crossing his arms and slouching. “You do realize that we’ll have to come with some sort of reason for joining that at least _sounds_ believable. Sauron knows you’re in a relationship with Thorin and he isn’t going to be fooled by you going up to him and telling him you’re in.”

“He’s come to me twice.”

“And he isn’t going to be fooled. You turned him down both times. What exactly are we going to say to convince them that we’re willing to join them?”

“For you: you could say you’re sick of Frerin’s attitude toward you.”

“I am sick of it, but that doesn’t make me want to turn on him. I completely understand why he hates me.”

“I will worry about what I will say to get them to take me in. I just…I can’t let this go on. Are you willing to help me and Gandalf bring the Melkor Corporation down once and for all or not?”

“You really have to ask? I just don’t know how we’re going to gain their trust enough to get near incriminating information?”

“They won’t,” Bilbo said. “But we’ll be in and we can get the information.”

Bolg hummed. “What does Thorin have to say about this? Does he know you’re planning to break into the enemy base and steal their flag?”

“No, he doesn’t. And I don’t want him to know until it’s too late to do something about it.”

Bolg arched a brow. “He won’t like this.”

“No he won’t.”

“You’re loopy.”

Bilbo wasn’t going to refute that. “Will you help me?”

“Well, I certainly can’t let you go there alone, so sure…but I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either. And I wish I had an idea of what I should do, but at this point, Bolg, I have no idea what else to do. I can’t let them do what they want and I certainly cannot let them hurt Thorin’s family anymore than they already have.”

Bolg nodded. “I get it. Really I do. But sometimes I wish we never found out.”

“Same,” Bilbo said. He lifted his mug. “Toast to freedom?”

“And putting our lives on the line to save the world from World War Three,” Bolg agreed. They clinked their mugs together and drank deeply. If ever there was a time to get drunk, getting a job interview with a madman and his equally screwed up secret organization was such a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write. Why? Why was it hard?! I feel like it's crap and I can't figure out why?! TT.TT  
> That's why it's actually shorter than my usual chapters....


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead

Tomorrow he would go to Sauron and accept his invitation. To his knowledge, Thorin was still in the dark. Hopefully he’d stay there till this… _mission_ was over. His nerves were frazzled and his stomach felt sick from the very idea of going to Sauron for _any reason_.

He stepped out of the shower, skin pink from nearly too hot water scalding him in measure, therapeutic and hurting. Bilbo wiped the water off him till he was suitably dry and ran a towel over his hair to get the most of the moisture still clinging to his curls.       

He looked in the mirror, frowning, unsure if he was all together pleased with how he looked. He wasn’t as well muscled as the Durins were, and there was a measure of chub around his belly that usually remained unnoticeable.

Bilbo shook his head. Thorin knew what he looked like. He’d touched him before and he didn’t seem to care that Bilbo had a bit of fat. Something Bilbo actually appreciated.

He exhaled and wrapped his robe around his body, hoping he wouldn’t be caught by someone… _not_ Thorin. The hall was empty so he strode to Thorin’s door and slipped inside without knocking. Thorin glanced up from the book he was reading and frowned.

“Bilbo?” He seemed confused and Bilbo locked the door. He turned to him, pulled out a couple condoms and a bottle of lube which he placed on the bedside table. Thorin stared as Bilbo removed the robe, climbed into bed, and kissed him. Thorin sighed into the kiss, cupping the back of his head. “Are you sure? I don’t want to push you or have you push yourself.”

Bilbo nipped his lower lip and pulled the book out of Thorin’s hand. He placed a bookmark between the pages and set it on the bedside table before straddling Thorin’s waist, fingers stroking Thorin’s beard. Thorin moaned, eyes closing, and rested his hands over Bilbo’s hips. Bilbo broke the kiss and pushed Thorin onto his back.

“I’m sure,” he said, straddling Thorin’s waist, hands pressed to Thorin’s shoulders. Bilbo dipped down and pressed his lips to Thorin’s throat. He felt Thorin’s Adam’s apple bob beneath the skin and the short hairs of his beard scratched at his lips and chin, leaving a bit of an itch. Bilbo moved lower trailing light kisses down Thorin’s sternum.

His hands pet at Thorin’s sides and he could feel the dull beating of Thorin’s heart beneath his lips. Bilbo’s hands moved over Thorin’s breasts, trailing through the course hair over his chest and running his thumbs over hardening nipples. He kissed one, sucked on it.

Thorin’s breathing grew more labored and his hand cradled the back of Bilbo’s head. Bilbo’s lips stretched into a smile and he moved to the other nipple, swirling around the bead with his tongue, raising his gaze to meet Thorin’s. He kissed it and moved further down to Thorin’s belly.

Thorin’s penis brushed against Bilbo’s scrotum and they sighed at the slight burst of electricity thrumming through their bodies. Bilbo curled his hand around their penises and stroked. Thorin gasped, hips bucking so their lengths slid together and Bilbo shuddered a couple more lazily given strokes.

A couple more thrusts from Thorin and Bilbo let go, moving further down Thorin’s body, pressing his lips to the dip between Thorin’s belly and his sex, gripping his hips and positioned himself between Thorin’s legs, thighs pressed to Bilbo’s shoulders.

Bilbo pressed kisses along Thorin’s penis before dipping lower still and taking his testes into his mouth and gently sucked. Thorin gasped and his fingers curled around Bilbo’s hair. He didn’t tug, but it was painful enough that Bilbo stopped and pried Thorin’s hand off and held it in his and he made his way back up Thorin’s body, taking a moment to suck on the head of Thorin’s cock.

Thorin choked on a gasp and Bilbo straddled his waist again. Thorin’s cock nestled behind him and Bilbo leaned over him, pressing his lips to Thorin’s and reached for the condoms. Thorin rolled them over and took the condoms from Bilbo. He opened one to slide on his cock and Bilbo took the second.

Thorin kissed Bilbo, then his cheek, neck, collarbone…his hand slipped between their bodies and he teased his finger against Bilbo’s hole. He seized the lube and straightened, coating his fingers and gently pushed a finger inside more easily than he expected. Bilbo smirked and Thorin pouted.

“Steal my fun, why don’t you?” he mumbled. Bilbo laughed again and kissed him.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” he said. He pushed aside the thoughts that there perhaps might not be a next time and focused solely on the feeling of Thorin’s slicked cock pressing into him.

Thorin swiped his tongue against his lower lip and Bilbo gripped his shoulders as though hoping it’d steady him. Thorin thrust steadily into him. The hairs on his belly scratched at the underside of Bilbo’s penis and he shivered.

Thorin picked up his pace and bit Bilbo’s ear, nibbling at the lobe. Bilbo’s back arched and he dragged his nails down Thorin’s back, blunt as they were, he could feel them tearing at the top layer of Thorin’s skin. Thorin moved his hands over Bilbo’s thighs and hooked his hands behind the knees. He pushed them to Bilbo’s shoulders. His own knees bracketed Bilbo’s hips as he drove deeper and harder into Bilbo.

Bilbo arched his back and gasped as the tip of Thorin’s cock brushed against his prostrate. He moaned Thorin’s name and rolled his hips in time with Thorin’s as his climax built. Thorin released one of Bilbo’s legs and fisted Bilbo’s cock. His thumb circled with each pump and Bilbo tensed, groaning as he released. Thorin thrust into him a few more times before his own orgasm overcame him.

For a few moments, they breathed in tandem. Bilbo’s heart beat in his throat and Thorin kissed his skin as he calmed before daring to pull out of Bilbo, hissing, and flopped onto his back.

Bilbo’s arms shook as he forged himself to a sitting position. His bum felt a tad bit sore, but not unpleasantly so as he removed their condoms and disposed of them before getting a cloth from the bathroom and wiping the sweat off Thorin and himself. As soon as the cloth was thrown in the laundry hamper, he laid his head on Thorin’s shoulder and kissed whatever skin he could reach. Thorin’s trapped arm curled around Bilbo’s waist, gently stroking the skin he could reach.

“I love you,” Bilbo whispered. Thorin looked at him and Bilbo smiled. “Really, I love you.” _Please keep that in mind in the following weeks. Please._

“I love you, too,” Thorin said. “Goodnight?”

Bilbo nodded and Thorin eased onto his side, allowing Bilbo to move closer and cling to him. Once Thorin was asleep, Bilbo bit his lip.

 _Please remember I love you_ , he thought, closing his eyes.

#

Bilbo finished dressing and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. He sighed, nerves jumbling and stomach rolling around. He groaned, bracing himself against the sink and lowered his gaze from the mirror. He sucked in a few breaths and licked his lips before looking up again.

“I can do this,” he told himself. “I _have_ to do this.”

He straightened and readjusted his tie before leaving the bathroom. Bolg waited for him down at the bottom of the steps, looking perhaps just as pale as Bilbo.

“Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” Bolg asked. Bilbo shrugged.

“Neither am I,” he said. “Let’s go.” Bolg drove, Bilbo took the bus. When Bilbo got to Mordor Inc., Bolg was already finished, shaking hands with Sauron, who squeezed his shoulder before turning to Bilbo.

“Glad you could make it, Mr. Baggins.” Bilbo nodded. “Not all that talkative today, are we?”

“My boyfriend isn’t really…” Sauron’s expression was pitying. Bilbo hated it. “He doesn’t know I’m here and he’d probably…I need the money. That’s it. That’s all.”

“Well, let’s head into my office and we’ll discuss what you’ll be doing for Mordor,” Sauron said, leading him into the office. It was bright with ceiling high windows. The floor was black marble and it was covered in a red carpet. Bilbo moved mechanically in front of the desk and sat down, staring at his hands, which rested in his lap.

Sauron reviewed Bilbo’s résumé, occasionally asking the expected questions.

_What brings you to Mordor Inc?_

_Did you like working at Moria?_

Bilbo wanted to throttle him. Perhaps it was just for appearances, but he _hated_ it. Finally, he stood. “You came to me,” he reminded him. “I don’t know why you want me, but you came to me first. And I told you I need the money. I don’t want to rely on Thorin’s income as if it were my own. I’m not that kind of person, okay?” Sauron arched a brow.

“We need a senior psychologist at one of our facilities. You won’t be the only one, of course, as you’ll need time to complete your Ph.D.,” Sauron said, “But you’ll be paid accordingly for your time and effort. I’m sure that, even in a place you are not…satisfied, you’ll give a hundred and ten percent.” Bilbo nodded. “Good! Barad-Dur's Rehabilitation Facility will be glad to have you as their senior psychologist.”

Bilbo swallowed and nodded again, taking the folder about Barad-Dur and frowned. “Barad-Dur…is this mental institute like Moria?”

“It’s a rehab center, mental institution, and retirement home. Each group is separated from each other, of course. Shouldn’t be as high strung as Moria was.”

Bilbo nodded, but his insides were churning. How was he supposed to get information about what the Melkor Corporation was doing when he wasn’t in Mordor? “I thought this job would be for Mordor Inc.”

“It is, your office just won’t be here. Bilbo, you’re a smart young man and I would _love_ to have you here,” Sauron said. “As it is and given our history, do you really think I would take that risk?”

“I suppose not,” Bilbo said, hoping he didn’t sound faint. “So when do I start? Officially.”

“Tomorrow,” Sauron said, leading him into the elevator. “But we’ll be heading over to Barad-Dur today for a quick tour of the place.” Bilbo hummed, following Sauron inside.

 _If this doesn’t work, I’m going to take a leaf out of Frerin’s book and fake my fucking death_ , he thought.

#

Barad-Dur was about an hour and a half out of Berlin, a quaint facility filled with pilates instructors and nutritionists. There were several nurses and some doctors. Bilbo huffed and Sauron looked at him. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Bilbo said. “I didn’t sleep well.” He actually slept very well. Hard not to feel relaxed when pressed up to a very sweet and overly affectionate boyfriend. But Sauron had no business knowing _that_. “Sorry,” he said with a small smile to accompany it.

He didn’t seem that convinced, but Sauron let it be and showed him to his office. It was a big office with a decent desk and. A sofa was pressed against the wall. There was a fake bonsai tree by the window and an empty bookshelf.

“This is your new office.”

“I’m not sure I’m fully prepared to be a psychologist,” Bilbo said. “This is a lot.”

“Got to start somewhere. You’ve already had experience as a doctor, if I recall. You’re boyfriend, right?” Bilbo tensed.

“He wasn’t a patient of mine anymore when we got together,” he said.

“Right,” Sauron said, arching a brow. “Well, let’s hope you stick with the lady patients anyway.” Bilbo grit his teeth and stuffed his hands in his pockets, hoping to stave off the desire to punch Sauron’s nose in. “Shall we go check the outdoor facilities?”

Bilbo nodded and followed him out of his office and out into the gardens. It was admittedly really well kept and aesthetically pleasing in their own way. While walking around the lake, there was a flurry of commotion behind them and Bilbo had turned around just in time to dodge a man rushing at him.

Sméagol slid on the gravel and growled at Bilbo. “Where is it?! Thief!”

Two orderlies joined them and pinned Sméagol down, stabbing him with a needle. He struggled a little longer before falling asleep.

“That doesn’t happen very often,” Sauron said. “Are you all right?”

“Y-yeah,” Bilbo said. “I’m fine. Why is he—that was—”

“He’s not from Moria. Trust me,” Sauron said. “Maybe he acted or reminded you of someone from there. But everyone died. Not every body was recovered yet.”

Bilbo knew that was a lie. He _knew_ that was Sméagol. He nodded, eyeing Sauron suspiciously. His hand settled on one of Sauron’s fingers, the middle one, where a plain gold ring rested.

“This would be all of it. And I hope that little…incident didn’t turn you off from working here. You will be working in the rehab center, not with the mentally ill. I think you’ve had enough of that for one lifetime, don’t you? Especially since you were working with the criminally insane.”

“Yeah,” Bilbo said. _I know you’re lying to me._ “It would work better. I could use something a little calmer, you know?” Sauron beamed and led him back to the parking lot.

#

He paced outside the bar, waiting for Bolg to arrive, phone pressed to his ear.

“C’mon, Gandalf. I need you, you old wanker…”

“ _You have reached Gandalf Grayhame. I cannot come to the phone presently. Please leave a message and I will return your call posthaste._ ”

Bilbo groaned and turned his back from the streetlight. “Gandalf, I got the job there. Sméagol is there too and I think I…just call me back. I’m in a bloody panic here and could really use your bloody advice.” He hung up and pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning.

“Hey!”

He looked at Bolg. “Well? How’d it go on your end?”

“Oh, you know: I’m interning under my dad who should be in prison. You?”

“I was given a position as a _doctor_ at one of the fanciest private hospitals I’ve ever seen. And one of the patients from Moria is there. Yeah.”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah. Oh, get this: Sauron lied to me about that. Said the guy was someone else.”

“But it’s not someone else.”

“Yeah.”

“How are we going to get any information to leak at this rate?”

“I don’t know,” Bilbo said. “You’re the spy and the tech savvy one. You’ll figure it out.”

Bolg rolled his eyes. “Let’s get a drink. I need one.”

“Same.”


	47. Chapter 47

One day, turned to a week, which eventually became two…and so on.

The monthly paycheck had figures Bilbo had only _dreamt_ of seeing, so really, the temptation to stay was a bit much despite that some of his patients were the most dick-headed patients he had the misfortune of meeting!

He’d rather work in the mental facilities. At least the patients don’t insult you there…

After that paycheck was cashed, though, he received a frantic call from his grandparents demanding to know where he was getting that money. Apparently _The Melkor Corporation_ was where the money was coming from.

He tried to assure them that he wasn’t actually intending to work _long_ for Sauron, just until he found anything that could land his ass in prison.

Knowing his grandparents, that wasn’t good enough for them and there were demands he come straight home before they flew down there to drag him back to London by his ear.

“Well then, take it up with Gandalf! This was his idea!” Bilbo snapped into the phone.

“ _Don’t talk to me in that tone_ ,” his grandmother snapped back, making him wince and sigh.

“I’m sorry, Gran, it’s just…going longer than I hoped it would and I’m tired. I’ll call later, okay? I have to go,” he didn’t wait for her reply.

Bad form.

He was going to get another call in a couple second from his grandfather in a moment, but he’d just ignore it and the easiest way to do that was to turn off his phone. Gandalf would be _so_ pleased to know he’d corrupted Bilbo this much, the bastard.

Bilbo held his head in his hands and groaned, massaging his forehead. Thank God, he wasn’t anywhere near Thorin or Barad-Dur at the moment. He didn’t want _that_ conversation being overheard, even if only half of it was what was overheard.

He stared at the cup of tea before him for a moment before _finally_ drinking it. He needed to find a way to hack the mainstream.

Well, Bolg did.

It’d be easier if he could help, but there was very little to be said or done about it.

He had a seat with a good view of a wall clock and he kept his eye on it warily so he wouldn’t be late for his bus—

“Waiting for someone?”

He almost spat out his tea, covering his mouth and looked at Thorin, wide eyed. He must have looked guilty as hell right now and Thorin had picked up one of the files strewn on the table.

“Barad-Dur? You realize this is one of Melkor’s—”

“I do,” Bilbo said. Thorin set the file down. “I didn’t tell you because…you were still mourning Balin and I didn’t want you to worry. Gandalf agreed.”

Thorin sat down, arms crossed and staring at Bilbo. He didn’t like the look Thorin was giving him. It was unreadable and yet had some sort of imperial air about it…as if Bilbo was somehow lesser than him for actually agreeing to this stunt or whatever it was.

“Thorin, I didn’t mean to keep this from you. I had _hoped_ to be done with Melkor by now. Maybe even fleeing back to London or to America.”

“And when it was over, would you have told me you did this?”

“Yes, I would have told you once we were done. At least then, we would be _done_.”

Thorin leaned forward, hands clasped and laid on the table. “You’re quitting. Today.”

“Thorin, I’m not done—”

“I don’t care if you’re done. I don’t want you working for that _thing_.”

“I don’t like working for Sauron either, but—”

“No. No buts. No ands. _No_. I will yell at Gandalf later.”

“Thorin, I know what I’m doing.”

“So what you want is in Barad-Dur? Really? What is incriminating to him there?”

“Sméagol is there,” Bilbo said. “I’m not working with him, but he is there and Sauron has his ring. He’s probably using it to manipulate him. ‘Want it back, do as I say’ sort of thing—”

“Sméagol’s fine, with or without his fucking ring.”

“Bolg is working under Azog! He has a bigger chance of getting something—”

“Then let him do it.”

“Thorin—”

“I’M NOT LETTING YOU GO BACK THERE!!!” Thorin shouted.

The silence that followed was filled with the confusion and even a bit of fear from the rest of the café looking at them.

“I’m not a dog or a child,” Bilbo snarled, meeting Thorin’s heated glare with an icy one of his own. “You have _no right_ to tell me what I can and cannot do.” He stood, packing his things up. “You can either keep yelling at me all the way there or this can wait till I’m home, but I’m _going_ , Thorin. I work there. It’s not as if I have much of a choice right now?”

How that must sound to the others. They’d never guess he was a spy for…what _was_ Gandalf anyway? He certainly wasn’t _just_ a psychology professor and army vet.

Thorin followed him and seized his arm, pulling him into an alley. He pinned Bilbo against the wall. For a moment, Bilbo was ready to hit him, but then he noticed that the anger that had burned in his eyes was gone and there was just sorrow left.

“Bilbo, please. I am tired. My family is tired. I don’t want to lose you too. Not after all I’ve lost already. I love you and I want to be done. I will get on my knees, if I must, but _please_ , Bilbo, don’t go back there.” Thorin pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s. “Please, _schatz_. Please.”

“It’s just a little longer. Once Bolg and I get what we’re looking for, we can bring the Melkor Corporation down at last. We can stop them.”

“These people are _insane_ , Bilbo. They have money and reputation and you will be targeted. It’d be harder to disappear.”

“But Frerin did it once. He can show me how to do it.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin cupped his face in his hands and he sounded broken. “Please, _stop_. Just stop. I’m done.”

“So you’d let them—”

“We’ve hit them enough, have we not?” he asked. “We brought down three of their most powerful backers, stopped them from hurting others.”

“Thorin, this isn’t a normal war.”

“You’re not a secret agent! This isn’t something that is going to be easy to walk away from.”

“It’s already hard to walk away from it! He’s come to me _twice_ offering a job! I don’t know why, but he wants me working for him. I don’t know why and I don’t care. Once I get what I want, I’m done. I’ll leave. Hell, I’ll work for Erebor Tech or something.”

Thorin shook his head, eyes closed. “Please. If you don’t come home, I don’t…”

“I’ll come home,” Bilbo promised, pulling Thorin’s hands away from his face and kissing them. “I _will_ come home. I swear it, but trust me.”

He fished his phone out of his pocket and turned it back on, walking to the bus stop as he checked the calls. Of course, there were _three_ so far from his grandparents…and a text from Bolg.

_Don’t go to work. He’s gonna be pissed._

_Go underground if you can. Already sent this to Gandalf._

With it was an attachment to a website. Bilbo turned around and walked back to Thorin.

“It’s done: Bolg found what we were looking for.” He showed his phone to Thorin, who still looked very despondent. “Thorin, it’s done.”

“You won’t go?” Thorin asked.

“Bolg’s making himself scarce. I should— _we_ should do the same. Let’s go. This’ll be advertised probably everywhere imaginable in a few hours and I don’t want to be outside when it does.”

“Get rid of your phone.”

“What?”

“Sauron’s likely going to retaliate and violently. Call your grandparents. Tell them to leave wherever they are and to stay away. They’re likely targets now.”

Bilbo nodded, sent a quick text to his grandfather (thankful that at least _one_ of them knew how to text), and smashed it against the ground. _Should do the trick_ , he thought. “Can’t be tracked now,” he said.

Thorin nodded absentmindedly as he texted his own family. He glanced at Bilbo once, still looking rather upset. Bilbo didn’t understand why.

With the information they wanted now in the open, weren’t they free?

Or, and Bilbo’s heart dropped, had they just declared open war on Sauron?

God, he hoped not.

He followed Thorin to his car and they drove back to the house, Thorin muttered under his breath about packing, remote towns, needing cash…

It was as though they were going as far under the radar as they possibly could. It was rather likely that they would. Whether or not they’d actually be able to—a whole group would be harder than one person, after all—he couldn’t be sure.

Once at home, Thorin stormed out of the car and approached Gandalf, who was waiting on the steps.

“You are a madman!” Thorin bellowed, seizing Gandalf by his coat. “What were you thinking sending my lover into that den?!”

“Bilbo’s all right, is he not?”

“That is not the point!”

“Calm down, Thorin, all is well. You won’t have to move or close shop or anything.”

“Sauron—”

“The first people to get this was the Federal Ministry of Defense,” Gandalf said, showing the new website. “The minister’s a good friend of mine. All active facilities are being stormed within the hour.”

“Sauron—”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t escape, but either way, he’s a known terrorist now.”

“The _fuck_ , Gandalf?!”

Bilbo pulled Thorin off. “It’s done,” he said. “Thorin, it’s done.”

Thorin shook his head. “You don’t understand: you’ve doomed us with this stunt. He’ll not rest till we’re dead now.” He pushed past Bilbo and strode into the house.


	48. Chapter 48

_Bilbo pulled Thorin off. “It’s done,” he said. “Thorin, it’s done.”_

_Thorin shook his head. “You don’t understand: you’ve doomed us with this stunt. He’ll not rest till we’re dead now.” He pushed past Bilbo and strode into the house._

Gandalf stroked his chin. “Thorin’s fear may be true, but there is going to be very little Sauron can do about it at this point.”

“Killing us is still possible for him.”

“If you think this makes him the first enemy I’ve had who has tried exactly that, then I owe you quite a few stories, Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf said far too calmly for Bilbo’s liking. “Come inside, have a cup of tea, and, if need be, we’ll figure out what to do when Sauron launches his supposed counter attack.”

They entered the house. “I don’t know what to trust anymore, Gandalf.”

“You’re a good man, Bilbo Baggins. And there are still many thing that you can trust. For now, I would suggest getting some rest. I will be having some tea.” Bilbo nodded and went upstairs, wanting to land on his bed and crawl under the covers. Instead, he laid awake, frowning.

What if Thorin was right and they’d be hunted down by the Melkor Corporation anyway? What would Sauron do to them now that they’d revealed his “master plan,” so to speak?

Surely, it wasn’t as bad as Thorin made it out to be. Or maybe it was?

Bilbo didn’t know. Still, he stood and went to find Thorin. He wasn’t in his room, so Bilbo tried downstairs where he heard voices. He paused and leaned against the wall when he realized it was Thorin.

“You shouldn’t have used him,” Thorin said, voice laced with fatigue. “I’m _glad_ he and Bolg pulled it off. Really, I am, but at what cost? If Sauron is caught, then great! Wonderful! I’ll personally pay for that celebration. But must it have been Bilbo? I’m sure there are others Sauron was interested in that were just as up to the job as him.”

“Indeed, there were, and still are. But none of them were being personally sought out by Sauron. Bilbo was. It was ideal and opportune.”

“Ideal? Opportune? Do you even _listen_ to yourself?!” Thorin shouted. “You used the love of my life as bait for a monster! You pushed him into the belly of the beast!”

“I did _nothing_ Bilbo had not consented to in the first place, Thorin Oakenshield. Despite what you think, Bilbo can make his own decisions and he _has_ made them. He did not tell you because he wanted to spare you further pain and anxiety. A good call, too, given your present state. He’s _here_ and he’s safe.”

Bilbo sat on the steps.

“I know,” Thorin said. “But I’m not forgiving you for this. Ever. You put him in danger. Even though he’s safe, it’s not enough to make me change my mind. It was bad enough when he got involved to begin with and sometimes I wish he never found out about the Melkor Corporation.”

“You would have been satisfied to rot under Azog’s thumb?”

“If it meant keeping Bilbo safe, yes,” Thorin sighed.

Well that would not do. Bilbo stood and entered the kitchen. “Gandalf,” he said. “Could you excuse us?”

Gandalf nodded once, picked up his tea cup, and headed outside, mumbling about enjoying some fresh air. Once the door closed, he looked at Thorin.

“You heard?”

“Just about a minute-full or two of your conversation,” Bilbo said. “Gandalf was the one who told me, in his own _extremely cryptic_ way, that you weren’t being properly treated at Moria. Thorin, I don’t know if I’d even be in love with you if Gandalf hadn’t gotten me to actually give a fuck about what was going on. I was willfully ignorant and even willing to use how you felt for me to our advantage. At that time, I didn’t know we would be here facing a conspiracy…to be quite honest, Thorin, most of the reasons for why I’m here have to do with Gandalf pushing me to investigate.”

“Your apartment was bombed.”

“And Frerin…I think it was Frerin…got me out. I’m here. I’m alive. And I will keep fighting. I hope it’s with you, but you have to trust me to make my own decisions, too, Thorin. And I would have told you, just…”

“Not until after everything,” he stated. Bilbo nodded. “And now that it is, what next? We wait for Sauron’s move on his chessboard?”

“We got the queen.”

“Say we succeed and he goes to prison or is executed. It doesn’t get rid of Melkor. Just him. We didn’t get the queen. Not yet. Sauron is the queen. It’s not game over until the Melkor Corporation crumbles.”

“Either way, we’ve hit them hard,” Bilbo reminded him. “This at very least sets them back.”

“For future generations to deal with, when they’re strong again.”

“What do you want me to say? I’ve done everything I possibly can. We didn’t get out of this unscathed, Thorin. I don’t know what will happen next. I really don’t. So you can complain and insist we hide or we can make another stand against the Melkor Corporation.”

Thorin sighed and approached, taking Bilbo’s hands in his. “I want us to be happy. I want _you_ to be safe and by my side for as long as you’ll have me. But I don’t think I can stomach something like this again, Bilbo. I don’t care what your reasons for doing something so dangerous are. I love you too much to put you at risk like that. You knew that and you went behind my back to do it anyway. I don’t…”

Bilbo swallowed. “Balin had just died. You were distraught. We needed to do something and you had your family to worry about. It’s not as though I wasn’t available when you needed me. You were at work at the same hours I was there…To be honest, Bolg did most of the work. I never had the chance. I was stuck with crack-heads most days who were ridiculously unrepentant. I had better results with you and other mental patients.”

“I don’t think that matters,” Thorin said. “I told you that I want this to work and I feel like I’m the only one here who tries.” He licked hips lips and pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s. “I love you, Bilbo. I don’t need to be protected. I don’t need to be sheltered. Try to see my perspective. Would you not be as scared as I am if our positions were reversed?”

“I would be,” Bilbo said. “I’m sorry that you think I don’t trust you. C’mon, really? You’re not going to lose me. Remember: someone bombed my apartment?”

“You wouldn’t have gotten out in time if no one called you.”

“And we both survived being kidnapped. Damn, you were in withdrawal and taking down mercenaries just before I was going to be tortured! And you’re blowing a gasket over me infiltrating the enemy base on my own? Did not your own _sister_ singlehandedly trick Smaug into admitting that he was intending to oust her of her position at your company?”

Thorin shook his head. “I love you.”

“I love _you_ ,” Bilbo said. “And I’m sorry I scared you, but compared to everything else, this was nothing. It’s _nothing_ they’ve not done to us already and at the same time, significantly tamer. I’m here, I’m all right. We’re going to be okay. Please, if you can’t trust _Gandalf_ to know what we’re doing—since I’m convinced he is at the very least connected to MI5 or something like that—then we’re doomed and everything I know will go down the drain. At worst, we’ll be dead.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Thorin snorted. “Are there any alternatives?”

“Faking death like Frerin?”

“Good luck convincing him to do that again.”

Bilbo smiled. “I don’t think he needs to worry. And neither do you. Those two options are as low as we get. So far, I’m hopeful. I think we have at beating Sauron so long as we don’t sink to his level. I don’t think we’re going to have to worry about faking our deaths or dying for real. You heard Gandalf: the ministry of defense is on it. And it’s likely already out. There is going to be _nowhere_ he can hide.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s lost all ammunition.”

“True, but…right now, can you just be happy that I’m here and not worry about a danger that never came to pass. I won’t promise that it won’t happen again. Mostly because I’m pretty sure it won’t even if I were to promise, and also because even though I didn’t do much but what I’m being trained to do, it was harrowing and I never want to be that stressed again. But if I have to, if it means protecting the people I love, you included, I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

“Can I still be mad at Gandalf?”

“If it makes you feel better, sure, but I don’t know what being mad at him is going to do,” Bilbo said, kissing him. Gandalf strode in, phone pressed to his ear. He nodded at them once, and walked past toward the front door. “Instead, how about I make lunch for us.” The front door closed. “Just us.”

Thorin nodded. “Next time, if there is a next time.”

“Big if.”

“Very big, don’t keep it from me. Tell me.”

“And risk your anxiety peaking? I don’t think so.” Bilbo kissed his cheek and walked to the counter.

“Do I at least have the right to worry?”

“Yes. I would be scared and likely offended if you didn’t. I might not like your attitude while you’re worrying, but at the end of the day, I can at least call you a sweetheart.”

#

This so called informant was meant to have come an hour ago and while the weather had certainly improved since February, it was still quite cold. Gandalf glanced at his watch again, frowning before deciding to give it up and head back to the Durin-Oakenshield house.

Perhaps when he got there, Bilbo and Thorin would have let go of whatever spat they were having earlier. Personally, he thought Thorin was making a big deal out of nothing. But such was the life of those used to civilian life. If he knew the extent of all Gandalf had faced in his life, he would _not_ have a reason to complain, let alone judge him for putting Bilbo’s life in “danger.”

Hell, Gerry had done far more dangerous things than Bilbo had as of yet and let’s not get him started on the cold-war cases he’d worked with.

He went underground toward his car, pulling his keys out of his pockets when something came flying at him. Gandalf dodged. He evaded the brunt of the attack, but his leg stung from being burned, he patted the fire out with his scarf and tossed the ruined article aside.

The man was rather tall, large, and mumbling prayers under his breath while smirking at him through each misguided prayer to a god he mislabeled, misrepresented, and misunderstood. As the man stepped into the light, Gandalf’s frown deepened.

“Roger Ballarius,” he said. The man halted midprayer and Gandalf eased to his feet, favoring his injured leg. “I had presumed you died.”

“By the grace of God, I lived.”

“Then you should have walked away from your mission,” Gandalf said. “Or do you really think God condones what you’ve done so far?”

“The ways of God are little understood.”

Gandalf grit his teeth. God was a controversial subject. He personally didn’t know what to think. He met people who had opinions on both sides of the coin and he wasn’t sure which had worked for him best. Either way, the image of God this man had…well, it wasn’t a god Gandalf could trust.

Balrog held a lighter up, flicking it on and off, Gandalf reached for his gun (never go anywhere without a weapon, that was his motto).

Balrog dropped the lighter and Gandalf pulled his gun out, firing once before flames erupted around them…

_“What would you say if we could fix the world?” Melkor asked._

_“Fix it?” his brother, Manwe had asked, nodding to the boy. “Mel, the world is what it is. I’m not saying its great, but your ideas wouldn’t fix anything.”_

_“What would, then? In the Bible, the world became better after it was flooded. Is this not true?”_

_“It wasn’t completely wiped clean,” Manwe said. “Melkor, you’re talking about doing only what God—if there is a God—can do.”_

_“Something needs to be done.”_

_“It won’t be done by our hand,” Manwe sighed. “Let it go, Melkor. Stop looking at what’s fucked up and appreciate what’s beautiful about this world.” He smiled at the boy. “What do you think, Olorin?”_

_“I like the world as it is,” the boy said._

_“Say you didn’t though,” Melkor said, turning to him. “Say you want it to change. How do you do that?”_

_“Peacefully. We can’t do anything if we turn to violence.” Manwe nodded, but Melkor didn’t seem pleased with this answer. Olorin was dismissed after that._

_“We’ve fought fire with water long enough,” Melkor said. “It’s time to fight fire with fire.”_

_“You’d watch the world burn then. At least with water, things have a chance of growing back.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erm...
> 
> Sorry, i'm not sorry. 
> 
> *runs away*


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sexy times  
> Some bodily assault and threats of cannabalism
> 
> Enjoy :)

Dis had been on the phone all night with the doctors at _Sankt Joseph-Krankenhaus_ , being a second party informant to the rest of the group. Gandalf was in critical condition, though he had managed, despite all odds, to get behind a concrete beam as the bomb went off, killing Roger Ballarius in the blast. No one knew if Gandalf would actually survive.

Bolg sat on the stairs, head bowed and hands clasped to hide how shaken he was. Dwalin and Frerin were drinking outside on the porch. The boys were asleep upstairs, oblivious to what had happened to the kindly grandfather that snuck them sweets and a coin or two behind their parents’ backs. Bilbo and Thorin remained on the couch, Bilbo’s head on Thorin’s shoulder, listening to Dis rant at the doctor between furiously writing at the table.

“Madness!” Dis hissed to no one in particular before heading outside.

Bilbo shifted off Thorin, missing his warmth, but unwilling to seek it back for the sake of his neck. “Thorin, since this whole thing began, I’ve been scared a lot and often, but…”

“I know,” Thorin said, taking his hand. “I know. I’m scared, too, _schatz_.”

“Why do they want to destroy our world?”

“Technically, they don’t,” Thorin said. “Smaug told Dis that they wanted to fix it, and the only way to fix it was to get rid of humans. ‘Peace cannot be gained without war.’”

“Peace doesn’t exist,” Bilbo said. “It never will.” He stood and headed for the stairs.

“So you want to give up?”

Bilbo turned to him, frowning. “I want Sauron to pay for what he did. I want Gandalf to be okay. I want to go home to London and live, untroubled, unafraid. Way it’s been going, I’m scared I’ll go home in a coffin.” Thorin shook his head, standing and approached him.

“You are _not_ going to die. I’d die before anything happens to you.”

“You think that makes it _better_?”

“No. I don’t want to die either, but I swear to God, I will protect you before anything happens to you.” He pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s, cupping the back of his neck. “I love you. And I will protect you no matter what. Okay?” Bilbo lifted his eyes.

“You’re bloody affectionate.”

“I thought you liked it when I was affectionate. Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Bilbo said, wrapping his arms around Thorin’s torso and burying his face against his chest.

Bolg cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. “I’ll head out.” Bilbo released Thorin and approached him.

“It’s safer here and you know it.”

“No, I don’t know that and it probably isn’t. Especially if Gandalf’s out of commission,” he said, zipping his jacket up. “I’ll be fine. My dad may be a dick, but he never hurt me. This,” he pointed at his eye. “Accident from when I was little. BB gun—yeah, go ahead and laugh.”

“Not laughing,” Bilbo said.

“I know you guys don’t see good in him, but he’s my dad. I’m not…proud, but…”

“Hey, I get it. I’m not holding it against you.” Bilbo held his hand out. “Be careful, okay?”

Bolg grabbed it, shaking firmly. “You too,” he said. “I’ll text when things start looking up.”

“You do that,” Bolg nodded at Thorin and walked out the door. Once it clicked behind him, Bilbo leaned against the wall.

“It’s too dangerous for him right now.”

“He’s a smart kid,” Thorin said. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Bilbo wasn’t as sure, but he admired Thorin’s confidence. He turned to Thorin and grabbed his hand, kissing him once and pulled him up the stairs. Once he locked his bedroom door and turned to Thorin sitting on the bed, a small spark of confusion mixed in his eyes.

Bilbo bit his lip and approached him, straddling Thorin’s lap. He pressed their lips together, running his hands through his hair and tugging lightly as he bit Thorin’s lip and sucked. Thorin’s hands seized Bilbo’s thighs and he squeezed.

Bilbo sighed against his lips, moving his hands down to Thorin’s shirt and pulled it up, breaking the kiss to pull it over his head and let it drop to the floor. Thorin grabbed his shoulders, pushing him back.

“Are you sure?” he asked. Bilbo nodded.

“I’m sure.” He pried Thorin’s hands off, fingers between fingers and kissed him again.

Thorin let go of his hands and grabbed his thighs, lifting Bilbo up and turned them around to lay him down, sliding between his legs and slipping his hand beneath Bilbo’s shirt. Bilbo arched his back as Thorin’s thumb massaged his breast and exposed his neck. Thorin latched his teeth to it, beard scratching at his skin.

Thorin rolled his hips down, clothed erections rubbing together and they groaned. Bilbo shuddered and Thorin’s hand moved down his torso and over his jeans. He paused and looked at Bilbo.

“Would you have me?”

Bilbo blinked, almost taken aback. “What?”

“Would you have me,” Thorin said. “Take me. Fuck me. However you want me.”

Bilbo swallowed. “You want me to?”

“Yes.” Thorin touched his cheek and Bilbo nuzzled against his palm. “I want that.” Bilbo sat up. “Or does that not…” He cut Thorin off with a kiss, fingers scratching his beard.

“I thought you were exclusively a top.”

Thorin hummed, shaking his head. “Not just interested in topping, _schatz_.”

Bilbo licked his lips. He took Thorin’s shoulders and pushed him down onto his back, kissing his lips, down his jaw, neck, clavicle…down his torso, fingers light against Thorin’s skin before reaching the seam of his sweats. Bilbo curled his fingers under the waistband and pulled them down Thorin’s legs, revealing strong thighs and calves.

He let the pants join the clothes on the floor before kissing Thorin’s inner-thigh just below the seam of his boxers. He pulled them down, freeing Thorin’s cock. Bilbo swallowed and averted his gaze, pulling the boxers off before stripping.

“Lube,” he said, Thorin shifted, reaching for the bedside table, and retrieved a bottle, tossing it to Bilbo. He covered his fingers in liquid before pressing a finger against Thorin’s ass. “Still okay with this?”

“Yes,” Thorin said.

Bilbo teased the puckered skin and dipped his head down, gripping the base of Thorin’s cock and pressed kisses to the tip. Once he pushed his finger inside to the first knuckle, he closed his lips around the foreskin and sucked.

Slowly, Bilbo worked him open, almost frightened he might hurt Thorin somehow. Thorin’s breathing deepened, sometimes shuddering, other times biting back a curse. His hand slid through Bilbo’s curls, tugging when he needed Bilbo to lighten up on him…

Bilbo cursed and pulled his fingers out. “Condom,” he demanded. “Thorin—”

Thorin handed him a packet and once the plastic was in place, slicked with perhaps more lube than necessary, Bilbo gripped Thorin’s hips and pushed inside, staring at Thorin’s face, searching for any sign of discomfort. Thorin locked his legs around Bilbo’s middle.

“Bilbo…Bilbo _move_ ,” he growled.

Bilbo smirked. “I don’t know. I kind of like you writhing like this.”

“Fuck you, Bilbo,” Thorin snarled, rolling his hips upward. Bilbo almost thrust, but tightened his grip on Thorin’s hips, steadying himself before pulling out till just the head remained, then back in. Slow. Torturous. Thorin’s nails digging into the skin of his shoulders, demanding him to go faster.

Bilbo kissed his throat, sucking a bruise into the skin as he slid in and out of Thorin, One hand moved from Thorin’s hip to grip his cock, stroking him in time with each thrust till Thorin squeezed around him, muscles tense, and come spurting over his chest. Bilbo bit his shoulder, spilling inside him as if struck by lightning and tense.

He released Thorin’s shoulder, kissing the injured flesh and down his chest before pulling out. He tossed the condom and Thorin pulled him back.

“Need to clean up,” Bilbo mumbled. But _God_ his limbs were heavy.

“Forget it,” Thorin said. “Sleep.”

“Thorin—”

“Sleep,” he repeated, hugging him tighter. Bilbo sighed and kissed Thorin’s forehead.

“Okay. I love you,” he said, closing his eyes.

#

Getting coffee the next morning proved more hazardous than he thought it’d be, even while wearing a hoodie and sunglasses. He thanked the Barista, carrying the hot cups in a carrier and making his way toward the subway. He felt eyes on him and kept looking about, hoping that the feeling would die on his return to the hospital.

It didn’t.

He was walking up to the hospital entrance when someone seized him and pulled him behind a veil of trees, coffee dropping and spilling onto the grass, staining the dirt and cobblestones.

“Where is it?!” Sméagol shrieked, latching onto Bilbo’s throat. “Where is our precious?! Where is it! Give it to us!” Bilbo kicked his shin, trying to push him off. Sméagol growled and tightened his hold. He couldn’t breathe. He seized Sméagol’s wrist and twisted it. Sméagol screamed and Bilbo tried to run, but his hair was grabbed, yanked back.

“I know who has your ring!” Bilbo shouted. “I know who has it! I’ll take you to him, Sméagol! Okay? I’ll take you to your precious.”

“Where is it?!”

“With Sauron,” Bilbo said. “He has it. He took it. I saw him with it, okay? I saw him with it.”

Sméagol’s muscles relaxed and shock colored his face. He shook his head, climbing off Bilbo. “No,” he said, grinning. “No, Master wouldn’t steal from poor Sméagol.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Sméagol. I saw the ring on his finger. I would never hurt you. But Sauron—Master—he’s not a good person, Sméagol. He used you. I will help you get it back. Okay? If I’m wrong,” he swallowed. _Oh, I’m going to regret this if it turns south._ “If I’m wrong, you can kill me. But let me prove it to you first.”

Sméagol glared at him and scratched his chin. He coughed, gagging, and spat out saliva. “If Baggins lies, we eats him.”

Bilbo’s blood curdled. He did not recall anything about Sméagol being cannibalistic. “Okay,” he said. “Okay,” he got to his feet. “Let’s go see Sauron.”


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if a TW is needed but just in case...  
> -there's two murders  
> -a swastika  
> -mentions/hints at brainwashing and implied mental abuse  
> -mentions of human trafficking

The house was a shabby thing. The fence was broken and the lawn unkempt. The windows were boarded and the door looked unhinged. It’s paint job had once been white but now looked rather splattered with mud and moss. Once, it probably had been quaint, picturesque. But Bilbo couldn’t fathom it as Sméagol pushed him against a tree and tied him to it.

“This isn’t necessary,” Bilbo said.

“Very necessary,” Sméagol snarled. “If you’re lying, you’ll run.”

“Then you could trust me not to run,” Bilbo said, though Sméagol was right. He had been thinking it. “The ring will be on his right hand.” Sméagol sniffed and ran off toward the house.

Bilbo waited till he was sure Sméagol would not return, then began to wiggle. Even if he couldn’t get free, if he could at least pull one hand out from the ropes (thankfully Sméagol had just tied him around the trunk so that his arms were pinned to his sides rather than tied at the wrists) and get his phone, he could call for backup.

Bilbo grunted, rope and bark chaffing his skin beneath his hoodie. Bilbo grimaced at each scrape and bit his lip to keep from whimpering…

Finally he managed to slide his hand into his pocket and pull his phone out, dialing Thorin on speaker.

“ _Bilbo, where are you_?” Thorin asked.

“Erm…you may need to trace my phone for that,” he said. “Sméagol attacked me outside the hospital.”

“ _Are you all right?!_ ”

“All right is a relative term, right now. But I’m alive. Clearly. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to call.”

“ _We’re tracing now, but_ must _you be sarcastic right now_?”

“I’m tied to a tree Thorin and probably ripped some of my skin off just to get to my phone!” Bilbo snapped. “If Sméagol doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he might eat me!” He was met with silence. He almost dropped the phone, head snapping toward the house at the sound of a gunshot. “Thorin, please say something?”

“ _We just found you. Think you can stay put till we get there?_ ”

Bilbo clicked his tongue. “Erm…Like I said I’m a bit tied up and if I do move, I doubt it’ll be far. Sméagol went into some ramshackle house before tying me up. So if I’m not tied to a tree, you’ll know where to find me. Just be fast.”

“ _We’re coming, schatz_ ,” he said.

“Okay. I can try and keep calm until then—”

A man pulled the phone out of his hand and broke it in half. He was a large man, bit beefy, and Bilbo tried not to wrinkle his nose at the stench, a bit more concerned by the tilted swastika tattooed to his shoulder.

“Mr. Annatar wants a word,” he said, pulling a dagger free and cutting Bilbo loose. He seized Bilbo’s shoulder and shoved him toward the house. Bilbo held his hands up, hoping that would keep him from attacking needlessly and went inside the house. It wasn’t as bad inside as it was out.

True, the wall paper was shabby and flaky in places and the furniture was rickety, but other than that, it really could be worse. Bilbo was led to the living room, or what he thought was a living room. Sméagol lay on the ground, blood pooling around his head where he was slumped. Bits of brain, blood, and bone splattered the wall. Sauron was sitting in the rocking chair, cleaning his gun.

“Setting a man’s dog on him is a low blow,” he said. Bilbo’s blood boiled at such blatant disregard. Sméagol, mad as he had been, was still a human. He deserved treatment. Understanding. Compassion. And this… _thing_ treated him like an animal! Bilbo couldn’t fathom how Sauron could even be human in this instance! “Tom, you can go. Mr. Baggins and I will have this chat in private.”

Tom nodded and ducked out. Sauron waited for the door to close before approaching Bilbo.

“You ruined quite a lot for me,” he said. “But not everything, so believe it or not, I’m more cross than angry. You would’ve been spared, first row seat to rebuilding the world. No more war. No more famine. No more disease.”

“You’re insane if you think eradicating the human race would do anything.”

“It would do something,” Sauron said. “This world was beautiful, but our people grew too numerous and we were maddeningly destructive. We’re in the middle of a mass extinction caused by _us_. Even now, innocent animals are poached, children are sold to perverts—”

“I get it,” Bilbo said. “I agree: our world is fucked and it’s fucked up, but no one has the right to play god. For all the evil in this world, there is also good and it’s worth protecting. What you’re doing, it’s just as bad as everyone you want to punish. Your plan is active terrorism. You get that?”

Sauron pocketed his gun and stared at Bilbo again. “It’s necessary.”

“You are so convinced that destroying the world is going to make things better, but you’re not cleansing it. It can’t be cleansed this way.”

“What? You mean peace? Have there not been movements over the last century and even more concerning peaceful protest? How has that worked for everyone? Would it not be easier to just _wipe_ it all clean?”

“It won’t be clean,” Bilbo said, “Just…bloodstained. That’s not clean.” Sauron stared at him. For a brief moment, Bilbo saw a flicker of doubt cross his face. Bilbo took a breath. “Somehow, I think you know that this is not the answer the world needs. It doesn’t need the Melkor Corporation making these decisions for it. It won’t solve anything.”

“The end justifies the means.”

“It doesn’t. It has never justified anything. You’ll just be breeding more evil. You _have_ been breeding more evil.” Sauron shook his head.

“No. No, we haven’t. My grandfather never—” he cut himself off.

Bilbo looked down, the stench of blood was getting heavier in the air and it made him queasy. That and the racing fear through him made him feel sick. Still, he swallowed. “You grandfather was part of this?”

“What does that even matter?!”

 _Oh_ , Bilbo thought. _That changes everything._

“Melkor was your grandfather?” he asked.

Sauron pulled the gun out and Bilbo felt his heart jump to his throat. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s just a question,” Bilbo said, meeting Sauron’s eyes. _Get him to talk about his grandfather._ “A harmless, little question.”

Sauron laughed. “You’re shrinking me, aren’t you? Trying to, anyway. It’s cute.”

Bilbo so wanted to point out that he had succeeded, but decided against it, keeping his expression neutral, even if a little bit of pity somehow bubbled up. Sauron shook his head.

“My grandfather loved me. He didn’t brainwash me! He was enlightened! He passed that enlightenment off to his children and I will do the same. As I said, you’ve just set me back a few years, but what does it matter? The world can be fixed! Humans just need to be eradicated first!”

He stayed silent, letting him rant. Likely it would take years of help to get him to understand why his grandfather was wrong, why it’s still wrong. Bilbo wouldn’t deny that he was scared. He was terrified. The gun could go off at any moment.

“They need to be destroyed.”

“You’re human, too,” Bilbo said. “So are you sure that you do not mean ‘we need to be destroyed’?”

In hindsight, that might not have been the right thing to say, given how Sauron snarled and seized his shirt, pressing the barrel of the gun to Bilbo’s chin. Bilbo’s heart jumped in his chest and he felt chills crawl up his spine, freezing him in place.

“You think you know me?! You know nothing! I’ll kill you!”

Bilbo closed his eyes, expecting gunfire in a moment. There was a pop. Then there was blood. He felt the barrel leave his skin, though its chill still lingered. He opened his eyes. Sauron lay on the floor, an entrance hole bruised and bloody in his brain and the other side of his head had a gaping maw of a hole thankfully facing away from Bilbo.

His legs shook beneath him and it took more effort than it should to even stand.

Someone pulled him back against them.

“You’re okay,” Thorin whispered. “You’re okay.”

“You’re not freaking out?” Bilbo asked.

Thorin guided him outside and Bilbo pushed him away once they made it to the porch. He braced himself against a beam and anything remaining in his stomach was upchucked into the weeds, followed by tears he didn’t realize he’d been holding back.

“Is it over?” he asked, voice hoarse. “Tell me it’s over.”

“It’s over,” Thorin said, rubbing his back. “It’s over, Bilbo. We did it.”

“Gandalf?”

“He’ll be fine,” Thorin said. “And he’ll be very glad to know you’re all right, too.”

“Physically or emotionally?”

“Both.”

“Well, I’m not one of those!” Bilbo snapped, glaring at him. Thorin handed him a handkerchief, letting Bilbo wipe his mouth. “I never want to do something like that again,” he said. “Can I get some water?”

“Yes, love, you can.”

“I’m in shock.”

“Yes, you are,” Thorin said. “You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. Bilbo.” He looked at Thorin. He was still shaking and he couldn’t stop crying. Thorin cupped his face in his hands, thumbs wiping away the tears, and pressed their foreheads together. “You are by far the bravest man I have ever known.”

Bilbo whimpered, closing his eyes. He didn’t feel brave. Not one bit. Thorin kissed his forehead. “There’s an ambulance here. They’ll want to look you over.”

“Okay.” Thorin led him over to the paramedics, never straying from his side as they looked him over. Save for having a few scratches on his arm from when he was tied to the tree, the only damage Bilbo had suffered were psychological.

He could deal with that. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t shrink himself. Thorin had suggested contacting his previous psychologist, Elrond, and Bilbo agreed to it. He remembered Elrond, though barely.

For now, though, he wanted to go home. “We can do that,” Thorin said when Bilbo made this request. “Do you mean the house or do you mean London? Either way, we can do that.”

Bilbo sniffed and bit his lip. It was difficult to breathe. “London.” He said. “I need to get out of Germany for a…a while.” Thorin nodded, kissing his forehead again.

“I’ll arrange it. Besides, I should meet your grandparents anyway.” Bilbo managed a weak chuckle, slowly relaxing as Thorin comforted him.

“He killed Sméagol.”

“I know. I don’t know what you were saying to him, but it looked like he was angry enough to kill you.”

Bilbo nodded. The irony was that he worked himself up into a rage due to his own denial of what was going on. Somehow, deep down, Bilbo noticed that Sauron knew he was wrong. But now it would never be known if he could have repented.


	51. Chapter 51

Docking at Heathrow Airport, Bilbo feels a sense of peace and longing he’d not felt in a very long time. It was good to be home, even if just for a little bit.

Thorin placed a bookmark in _The Amulet of Samarkand_ —one of the books Fili had suggested for him to read while on the trip. Thorin had admitted that it was more directed for a juvenile audience, but it wasn’t too bad.

Bilbo took the time to try and sleep, and though it was better than if they had taken a commercial line, it was still not as comfortable as he’d have preferred. It couldn’t be helped. Thorin took his hand and kissed his cheek before entering.

Pacing the floor of the private entrance was a man wearing a charcoal grey suit, umbrella under his arm and hat resting comfortably on his head.

Sitting not far from him was a woman with a book in her hand. Bilbo couldn’t see the title, but he could guess it was either a Bronte Sister or Austen.

He cleared his throat and they looked up.

“Gandalf finally let you go?” the man asked.

The woman stood and slapped his arm before approaching them and embraced Bilbo. “Welcome home, sweetheart,” she said.

“Good to be home, Gran,” he replied, returning the hug. “And Gandalf’s in the hospital right now, Grandpa. He’s fine, though. I’ll tell him you asked.”

Gerontius Took shrugged and looked at Thorin. “New boyfriend?”

“Grandpa, this can wait.”

“You can’t put it off forever—you look familiar…”

“You knew my grandfather: Thror Oakenshield.”

“Oh, yes! Hopefully you have a lot more common sense than he did.”

“Ah…yes. I like to think I did,” Thorin said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Adamanta at last released Bilbo and gave Thorin a one over, making him blush more. “You’re both too scrawny,” she declared with her hands on her hips. “Come on then, you two. We’ll fix that. Get some meat on your bones.”

“Care to explain?” Thorin asked.

“It’s better if you remain ignorant and accept that you’ll just be a couple pounds heavier when we return to Berlin,” Bilbo said.

“What was it Gandalf needed you to do? Save the world?”

“Yeah. That’s about right,” Bilbo said, following them out to the car.

“Ha! Man never learns. He ought to retire if he’s landing himself in the hospital.”

“I can think of another someone who should retire before he lands himself in a hospital,” Adamanta muttered, sending Gerontius several dark glares.

Thorin looked down at Bilbo. “I don’t remember them being this…frightening.”

“They’re not scary. They’re bold. And you’re dating me, so I think it’s safe to say they’re going to poke and prod till they’re satisfied. After all, my grandfather did just get you to admit that you’re related to Thror. That alone tells them about your family, financial status, and your nationality.”

“They could tell my nationality from my accent, Bilbo.”

“True. They need only dig a little more to find out you’re schizophrenic.”

“Medicated.”

“Anyone can tell _that_.”

“And if they find out you were my doctor.”

“Technically, I was your nurse.”

“The implication is the same.”

“They won’t care. Grandpa met Gran while fighting in the Great War. They met because she was called over to take some shrapnel out of his sides.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the same,” Thorin said.

“No, but close enough,” Bilbo said, looping his arm around Thorin’s.

At last, he let his smile drop.

He didn’t want to worry his grandparents on top of everything else. He’d be here for a month or two with Thorin, relaxing, then they’d return to Berlin and he’d start going back to school in person, he’d see Elrond in his free time and find a new job that hopefully wouldn’t be so hazardous.

At night, he still saw the blood and the gore. He rewatched Sauron falling, a bullet breaking through his skull and piercing his brain. He saw Sméagol lying in a pool of blood, lifeless.

Thorin bumped shoulders with him. “I love you,” he said. Bilbo looked up.

“I love you, too. This…feeling I have. Will it go away?”

Thorin nodded. “It never really does, but it gets better. They’ll understand,” he said nodding toward Bilbo’s grandparents. “I bet they get it. You’re not weak for feeling scared or for seeing it in your head. You’re here. You still go to bed. You still get up in the morning and you act as normal as you can. That’s not weak. That is strength. And that is courage. You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for.”

They made their way to a limousine.

“Bit excessive for a visit home, Grandpa, don’t you think?”

“Oh, did I not mention that we had a thing to go to after we dropped you off at home with Thorin?”

“First I’m hearing of it.”

“Ah. Yes. Some boring political thing. Be glad you don’t have to be there.”

“I’ll be telling Mrs. Gamgee to feed you both properly, mind,” Adamanta said as she entered the car. “Have you children, Mr. Oakenshield?” she asked once they had all climbed in.

“Nephews,” he said.

“Wonderful! One of our granddaughters just got pregnant with her first!”

“Not as though you don’t have great-grandchildren all ready,” Bilbo mumbled, earning a cuff on the ear from Gerontius. “Sorry. I’m tired.”

“Clearly.”

“So, which cousin?”

“Primula, dear.”

Bilbo’s insides turned to ice. “So I guess I need to punch someone’s nose in.”

“Just your other cousin’s,” Geronitius said. “Some Drogo Baggins is the Father.”

Bilbo hid his face in his hands. He wasn’t sure what to do now. Well, Prim did have many brothers. He’d just have to sit on the sidelines and watch Drogo get what’s coming to him. After all, what was he thinking?! They weren’t even out of Secondary School yet!

“Is it that bad?” Thorin asked.

“They’re seventeen, both of them,” Bilbo said. “So it could be worse than it is. But still! Does common sense not exist _anywhere_?”

Thorin rubbed his back.”

“They’re keeping the babe, if that’s what you want to know. They’ve plenty of support to help them out, and besides,” Adamanta grinned. “Love is love. You of all people know that Bilbo.”

“They could’ve waited till graduating…”

“Well, nothing to be done about it now but to pitch in when you can,” she said. Bilbo nodded, leaning against Thorin and letting his hair be pet. He was happy for Primula and Drogo. Really, he was.

But he supposed he was more worried about them. What would become of them now?

_“Last night, Azog Gundebad…”_

Bilbo and Thorin stiffened.

“Could you turn that up?” Bilbo asked. It was.

_“…executed at gunpoint. Berlin police has yet to release the identity of the shooter, but it is hinted at that the assassin had ties to the Melkor Corporation—a group of…”_

“Dreadful, isn’t it?” Adamanta said, turning it down.

“Gran—”

“We don’t need that on the way home, do we, Bilbo? The man had a son.”

And it was probably the son that pulled the trigger. Bilbo pulled his phone out and Thorin took his wrist. “He’ll be in hiding,” he whispered. “Let him contact you. Okay? I’m sure Bolg’s all right.”

Bilbo stared at him for a moment. Then put his phone away.

“Are you two all right?” Geronitius asked. “You both look pale as ghosts.”

“Yeah, we’re fine. We just…you know, the Gandalf thing.”

Gerontius hummed knowingly. “Yes, Gandalf things never end pleasantly. Lucky to get out alive if you can. The first time he had me do something for him, it involved that Melkor fellow…dratted man got into Hitler’s mind…never met someone so dreadful!”

Bilbo gaped at them. _Melkor?!_

“Hush! You know we’re not to talk about that!”

“How many years has it been?”

“It won’t leave this car,” Bilbo said, leaning forward. “Especially since…” _Fuck it._ “The Gandalf thing I was…in. It involved Melkor’s grandson.”

His grandparents are silent. When the car stopped at a light or sign (he couldn’t be sure), Adamanta took the chance to sit beside him and embraced him. She kissed his forehead.

“You’re alive and that is all that we care about,” she said. “You’re home, Bilbo. You’re home.” She looked up and over at Thorin. “You’re both home. For as long as you would like to call it home.”

Thorin bowed his head. “Thank you.”

Gerontius nodded and crossed his arms. “So how exactly did you two meet?”

Bilbo chuckled weakly. This could be a longer drive than he thought. Despite that, it was good to be home at last.

 _Or rather,_ he thought as he looked at Thorin. _I found home a long time ago._

~THE END~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone to read! God, it took longer than I thought! I'm guessing nearly a year? 
> 
> Again, much thanks to everyone! Kisses!


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